The Hogwarts Renaissance
by Pyro Symptoms Unleashed
Summary: WIP. No one saw it coming...the Renaissance...the literal rebirth of everything they thought had been buried in the hatred between the houses, between the bloods, between their families. It came like lightning, and they were all shocked.
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** eyes pop open, rises stiffly and shakes off layers off dust and dust-spawn from hell AM NOT DEAD! Not that anyone cares. But, for my own 1 a.m. Thursday-night-with-homework-in-morning amusement, we'll pretend I have an active, listening, interested audience. So, was looking over previous writings and noticed small detail of...I SUCK MAJOR POOL BALLS! Never realized how stupid I sounded. Was going to write with new-gounf skills, but got side-tracked for a few months. Was becoming sophomore and being in International program and being on newspaper staff and writing two novels (neither complete) and trying to figure way into art gallery without paying manditory $100. Is overpriced. So, this is fun...**two hundred pages long and I haven't even gotten to the climax! **So, I'll be updating sporadically and in large increments. Reviews are always appreaciated.

NOTE: need help with better title. May not use suggestions, may not get suggestions, whatever.

**DISCLAIMER: **You know the drill, not mine if it belongs to J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter One: The Deal**

* * *

"Sir, with all due respect, are you insane?" 

Ginny Weasley immediately clapped a contrite hand over her mouth, trying to catch the words that had already escaped her lips. Her fearful brown gaze met that of another kind, a glinting pair of light blue eyes that seemed to see right through her.

"Sir, I apologize, I had no right to-" Dumbledore, the illustrious Headmaster at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry held up a thin hand to silence her. "There is no need, Miss Weasley. I realize that though an excellent student, you have certain tendencies that lie in your blood that render you ever so much like your dear, temperate brother, Mr. Ronald Weasley. Therefore, your outburst was expected and has been forgiven. As to the question itself, there have been many who have suggested I'm not quite all there upstairs…" he cocked his head to the side as she fixed her disbelieving gaze on him. "…however, this is not the time for that." He finished, leaning back in his chair.

Ginny shook her head slowly, not so much disagreeing with him as she was trying to clear the thoughts that muddled her overloaded mind. "But sir…I just can't. I mean…I'm only sixteen! How could you entrust such a critical responsibility in the hands of an adolescent who barely understands why she does half the things she does? Sir, it's just not a wise decision, if I'm not too bold to say…" she trailed off, feeling color rise to her already dusky cheeks, threatening to match the bright red color of her hair.

Dumbledore simply chuckled merrily. "You know, that is exactly what Professor Snape said when I told him of my intentions. Which just goes to show why this is possible. Aside from the fact that you're the brightest witch of your year, second in Gryffindor only to Miss Granger, you're also the most mature young witch I've ever had the pleasure to house in this foundation. Your maturity, as well as your natural instincts and motherly nature are exactly why I chose you for this particular assignment."

Ginny felt her head reeling. _I can't. I just can't. Can I? No, Ron would kill me. Harry and Hermione would kill me. MUM would kill me. I just can't. I just can't. But, I could. Oh, but I could. Damn the man. How does he know that's what I want? What I need? Damn him!_

She finally turned a steady gaze up at the expectant Headmaster who was grinning knowingly at her. "Sir…I just don't know. I mean…really. It's just so big…I don't know if I can handle it…what about my classes?" she pleaded, half-wanting him to find an excuse not to pressure her with this.

Dumbledore shook his head slightly. "As I've already mentioned, you are one of the brightest witches I've ever had. Even without this situation, we would have invited you to move up a year in your classes. We extended the offer to Miss Granger in her sixth year as well, but she preferred to stay with her classmates, as is understandable. As it is, if you accept this assignment, you would attend half your classes, the more important ones such as Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, etc, mostly the morning ones, as usual. As to the rest of your classes, you would have weekly tests and quizzes to test your abilities to make sure you can handle this. We've arranged it all. You would have tutoring classes by a seventh year student on weekends, in the privacy of your own rooms."

He gave her a hard glance. "I know that this would be no easy task. It would restrict your free time. You would no longer have such leisure time on the weekends. However, your workload would be tremendously reduced. We _would_ give you a Time-Turner, but unfortunately, Fudge has banned their use after a rather bizarre incident in your second year…" he trailed off, the corner of his mouth quirking in a half-grin.

Ginny stared down at her clasped hands. Of course she had had nothing to do all summer long, what with the twins off at their shop in Hogsmeade, and Ron, Harry and Hermione staying with their former teacher Professor Lupin for the summer term. So she had learned all her work for the year, her sixth year. She had read all her books, and even practiced a few minor spells under a Concealment Cloak, a recent invention of Fred and George's which allowed the (underage) user to perform magic without detection. A rather ingenious idea…

Ginny knew that if she had to, she could probably take the seventh year classes and pass them right now. But she wasn't sure if she wanted to do this. After all, it was for someone she really didn't like (she never hated anyone, but that girl was rather spiteful).

She sat there, for a long time. She had been so confused when Dumbledore had called her up to his office, and on the first night of school no less! She hadn't had time to do anything wrong. Not like she did anything wrong anyways…or if she did, she never got caught…

What right did the man have to ask her to do this? He had to know that though she may not like it, she couldn't refuse in the end. Of course he knew. Behind his words of flattery, that was the reason he'd asked her, of all people. Because she was the type who couldn't say no to something like _that_.

And eventually, Ginny's red head rose, her eyes meeting Dumbledore's. Her lips were dry as she pushed the heavy words through them.

"Fine."


	2. The Dragon's Lair

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Hi, back again. This is probably my last one for tonight...computer troubles. Can't wait to hear from you, i you're interested. I miss all my fanfic reviewer buddies. Oh, GlassBroomstick, that Ginny-Blaise one is almost done, I just need to come up with a good ending. Chin up and cheers. This is a story about the changes that take place in Hogwarts. Like my other fics, they have little to do with the later books, and nothing to do with the sixth one, because Ginny-Draco was pretty much shot to hell and I started writing this before I'd read the fifth book. Bear with, if you want to. Also, there are many pairings in here; I'm not sure if there's any slash, but if it offends, I will give warning and nothing explicit. Otherwise, it's mainly Ginny-Draco and I hope you enjoy.

**DISCLAIMER:** Blah bla, not mine unless it is...and isn't J.K. Rowling's.

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**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter Two: The Dragon's Lair

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**

Draco Malfoy was storming his Head Boy rooms. His best friend, Blaise Zabini was lying impatiently on Draco's large, green four-poster bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Draco was always restless, but today (or rather, tonight) he seemed even more so.

Blaise noticed. Lifting his head up, he regarded Draco for a moment. His entire painfully thin body expressed discontentment. His stormy grey eyes were a cold silver, his pale blonde brows furrowed. For once, his perfectly gelled and combed white-blonde hair was mussed up, hanging rebelliously in front of his eyes from hands he'd run through it.

"Malfoy, mate. Honestly, are you that worried she's back?" Blaise asked, propping himself up on his side with his elbows, staring intently as Draco continued to pace back and forth.

Draco Malfoy stopped, staring straight ahead at the fire in front of him. The flames were dwindling, as it was rather late, and his cold eyes were nowhere near warmed by the dying light given by the weak glow.

Those cold eyes hardened as he recalled the evening he'd barely made it through without screaming furiously. His first night back at Hogwarts. His seventh and final year before he was free. It was supposed to be a time spent relaxing with his friends, perhaps picking on the occasional Gryffindor or Hufflepuff first year if he felt like it.

His father was somewhere in hiding along with his mother, the ridiculous Voldemort who was nothing more than a shadow, and that whiny rat of a man Pettigrew. Several of the other more loyal Death Eaters were also on the run from Ministry officials and Aurors alike. The absence of his parents left him in full charge of his family's finances and affairs. More importantly, it left him in charge of his own affairs. He had not had to attend a single boring Death Eater party or meeting in the two months since his parents had disappeared, and he was enjoying life.

The first thing he'd done when he'd found out that he was in charge of the Malfoy estate was to withdraw his betrothal to that menace Pansy Parkinson. He knew his parents would be furious if they found out and survived long enough to get to him. To be perfectly honest, he didn't really care. The betrothal wasn't very old…it wasn't a childhood betrothal. It had been in his fifth year that his parents had informed him of his future with the pug-faced nuisance.

He could not stand the girl. She'd been hopelessly infatuated with him from the second he'd stepped onto the Hogwarts Express and had made it her business to be around him every second of everyday, something she very nearly managed to do. It was the most annoying thing, and she simply never shut up. He would have endured sleeping with her (which he actually did) to listen to her simper and chatter on. Not an experience he cared for, though his parents had encouraged him to have relations with the girl.

So over the summer, he'd immediately (well, perhaps he'd gotten a bit drunk first) called off the engagement. He blessed every god and goddess he knew of that Pansy had managed to get herself knocked up just before summer had let out. Draco knew _it_ couldn't be his, and therefore had a pillar to stand on against her to break off their engagement. With any luck, he wouldn't ever see Pansy again. The thought of her, stomach huge with child was revolting enough, but if it meant that she would be gone for Draco's entire last year, it made him practically cheerful. For a Malfoy.

He'd rejoiced in his freedom and cavorted liberally around Malfoy Manor, Zabini Place, and Diagon Alley as if he were the Dark Lord himself. Life actually looked as if it could be pleasant for once. And for the first year since _his_ first year at Hogwarts, Draco actually eagerly anticipated the start of the school year.

Still staring at the fireplace, even though the fire was long dead, Draco winced internally, still seeming agitated, yet reposed to Blaise, who was staring at him expectantly.

He had been so free…until this evening. Recalling the few hours that seemed like years was painful.

"_Hey Potter, enjoy your summer? I heard you stayed with the werewolf. Are you that desperate for a home? Or do you just fancy hairy men?" Draco had laughed at his own jagged, yet rather disgusting dig at his number one enemy at Hogwarts. Harry had simply sneered at him, and allowed his Mudblood witch to lead him away to the Gryffindor table where the elder Weasley was sitting, fists clenched angrily, looking as if he wanted very much to get up and punch Draco's face in._

_In fact, the only thing that kept Ron from doing so was the small pale hand on his arm, attached to a rather small red-haired girl. Draco had to peer closely at her to realize that it was the younger Weasley, the girl one. She had filled out a bit over the summer. She was no longer gawky and skinny. She had some curves that hadn't been there before; small yet full bust, wide hips, and a gently rounded stomach…not to mention a fine bottom. But of course Draco wasn't looking._

_Reminding himself of this, he turned away. His eyes landed on the doors to the Great Hall that had just opened, admitting a late arrival. Draco was about to let his interested eyes travel back to the Gryffindor table when he realized with a start just who was standing hesitantly in the doorway. _

_He nearly choked on his pumpkin juice as the rest of the hall went quiet. _

_Pansy Parkinson had grown quiet a bit heavier, though still not nearly as heavy as she should have been. She should be huge, five months along with child. Instead, she was most definitely **not**, and just barely rounded a bit more than she had been. She looked older and more womanly. Despite the silence that surrounded her and the extra pounds she sported, she strode purposefully into the Great Hall, holding herself with all the dignity of a true born Slytherin_

_Of course, Slytherin house was a little less than dignified this year; there were very few Slytherins actually there. So many had been killed or moved to another school, or fled from the Ministry. Really the only ones left were the ones who had joined with the light side, defied their parents, or were pledged to defeating Voldemort for their own reasons. Pansy had been among the latter two groups as far as Draco knew._

_As if not noticing every pair of eyes in the Hall on her (the news of her condition, though confidential, had spread fast), Pansy walked briskly yet unhurriedly over to the teacher's table. Draco noticed suddenly that there was no DADA teacher for this year, though Snape was looking particularly livid. Pansy leaned forward and whispered a few words to (who else?) Snape, and with a slight bow, turned and walked unblinkingly back out of the Hall, letting the doors close behind her with a bang._

_Chatter eventually started up again, this time louder as every table buzzed with talk and the wild speculations of youth about the strange appearance of Pansy. Draco closed his eyes to block out the idle noise around him. It was almost the end of dinner when the hall grew quiet again. _

_Draco's eyes flickered open, searching for the source of the deafening silence. He didn't have to look far. Professor McGonagall had gotten up from her seat and was now making her way between the tables, heading most definitely to either the Gryffindor or Slytherin table. Draco watched, as every other student was, as the strict Transfiguration teacher made her way over to the end of the Gryffindor table, stopping right in front of the Weasleys._

_She leaned down and it took almost everyone a second to realize she wasn't talking to Ron, or Harry or Hermione who were sitting to either side of the siblings. She was speaking in hushed tones to the littlest weasel. Draco could feel more than hear the whispers that started all over the Hall. More wild speculations, no doubt. Even Draco was mildly curious as to why she was talking to little Weasley. She couldn't be in trouble…even though almost everyone knew that she was a minor rule-breaker, she **never** got caught. Ever. Of course she couldn't, she was in the same league as Potter and his pals. _

_Professor McGonagall straightened and turned back to her table, not glancing back once. Draco cast a disinterested look at the little weasel and wasn't surprised to find her looking a bit pale. Her git of a brother was whispering furiously in her ear, though she seemed to be ignoring him studiously. _

_Draco turned back to his plate. The little brat's problems weren't his worries. His worries lay with the unexpected and **very** unwelcome reappearance of another brat._

"Draco?"

Draco's blonde head snapped up at Blaise's unanticipated interruption. The tall, dark, mysterious boy was standing next to him. Draco hadn't even noticed his movements.

"What?" he asked wearily. Blaise blinked, his eyebrows reaching up in surprise. "Hey mate, are you alright? You've been staring into that thing for ages. Is it really that bad that she's back?"

"How can she be back, Blaise!" Draco suddenly asked, his stonily silent mask falling away. "HOW! She's supposed to be carrying a child right now! There's no way she can be here. Not unless she had it…well, you know…but she couldn't kill her own child, could she?"

Blaise shrugged his shoulders. "I really don't know. You knew her just as well as I did, but I did see how she was. Shallow, harsh, mean…usually. I just can't imagine her as a mother. All the same, I can't see how anyone could kill their own child. However, witches do it, and she is ruthless. Perhaps she just really wanted to finish her schooling. Who knows how much she would sacrifice?" He shrugged again.

"Look, if it's bothering you that much, just ask her yourself. She is still here, I talked to Snape. She's going to be going to school here this year." He tilted his head slightly. "Although…Snape did say something about missing a few of her classes. Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, Divination…though I don't really know why." He shook his head.

Draco sighed. "Blaise, I called off our engagement. What makes you think the girl and I would be on speaking terms? Or that I would even want to be?" Sighing heavily, he stormed across the room and flung himself onto the now-empty bed. He nestled his face in the silky green pillow. "I'm tired. I trust you can see yourself out?"

He couldn't see Blaise's nod, but he heard his retreating footsteps and the soft click of the door closing. Draco sighed to himself, a habit he'd picked up from Snape, and rolled over. He never even bothered to change into his night clothes. He merely stared up at the ornately painted ceiling of his rooms for hours until sleep finally overtook him and closed his eyes gently for a slightly less-gentle night's sleep.


	3. The Swing of Things

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Back. Just want to let you know that all you reviewers out there are the ones who suck pool balls. It's entirely your fault that my parents now hold the belief that I'm somewhat mentally unbalanced. I mean honestly, I go to check my reviews for this new story, telling myself to stop biting my nails, not to get my hopes up, and what do I find? 13 FLIPPING REVIEWS! I was laughing and jumping for childish, somewhat insane joy so loud that my parents thought I'd lost it. And perhpas I have. So, to you 13 reviewers, damn you and thank you. You made and screwed up my day. But seriously, I love you all so much. I missed fanfiction. So, the story: many, many pairings, some will be permanent, others not, some you may like, some you may not, some will be hetero, some will be...not. Deal with it. Hoping I don't offend.Oh, and sorry if some of the characters are a bit OOC.

**DISCLAIMER:** Hart Mullee is mine, and the Draught of Tranquility, I believe. Only I could be so uncreative. The rest belongs to J. K. Rowling, that magnificent bitch. If she wasn't so great, I'd hate her.

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**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter 3: The Swing of Things

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**

Ginny awoke rather early the next morning. She, like Malfoy (though neither knew it) had not slept easily nor peacefully. As Ginny woke, the first thing that popped into her head was the shadow of a problem that had nettled her mind in sleep and harassed her all night long.

She sat up quickly, gasping softly. What was she doing? Ron would **murder** her! How could she agree to such a task? Was she mad? _How could I possibly have said yes?_

Groaning, she curled up into a ball and placed her face in her hands. _Because there was no other answer_.

She sat for several minutes, justifying herself. She knew why she'd said yes. She knew what she was doing, why she was doing it, and even that according to all that she'd been taught outside of school, she _shouldn't_ be doing it. But she was doing it. She had to. Dumbledore couldn't trust anyone else to do it. And even if he could, absolutely _no one_ would agree as she had. She knew this, and it was partially why she had agreed.

The other part was that she actually wanted it.

……….

……….

"Ginny! Hey, Ginny wait up!"

Ginny turned around in the hall, avoiding other students as they pushed by in a rush to get to the first class of the school year. Ginny was headed to Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Hufflepuffs. She stopped and waited patiently as Hart Mullee hurried up to her, struggling to make it through the crowded halls.

Ginny sighed and forced back a smile as she watched the short, plump, energetic girl push people aside as she dashed towards Ginny, who was waiting patiently next to a large statue.

Hart finally pulled up beside Ginny, her peach-colored cheeks a dim red flush. "Honestly, I really am going to get in shape this year." Hart said regretfully in her soft Irish brogue, glancing down at her gently rounded stomach and full hips, absentmindedly pulling at a loose strand of red hair.

Ginny rolled her eyes and grabbed Hart's arm, pulling her along with the flow of the crowded hallways to the class they shared together. "And _honestly_, Hart, you don't need it. You're not overweight. You're not even close! You've got a few _healthy_ extra pounds." She stressed the word 'healthy'.

Hart rolled her eyes. "Yeah right, Gin. Even if you're telling the truth, I could still do with getting into better shape." Ginny clenched her fists. "HART!" she bellowed, causing the younger girl to jump. "For Godric's sake, you are not out of shape! You run every bloody morning! You lift weights and swim in the lake all the bloody time! You wear out the giant squid! Fang can't even keep up with you anymore! You fly circles around even Harry in Quidditch! How much more 'in shape' can you get?" she yelled, though remembering to keep her voice down to an agreeable level.

Hart grinned recklessly, tucking an errant strand of her ever-wild red hair behind her ear. "First off, the giant squid hasn't been seen in ages; secondly, Fang is old and decrepit, and even Snape in his pasty paleness could outrun him; thirdly, Harry was sick with the flu when we last played, so obviously he would be slower, and finally, I can barely run down the hall without getting all flushed and bothered." She finished triumphantly, placing her hands on her hips.

Ginny rolled her eyes again, turning a corner with her friend. "Hart, I doubt anyone in our year could even carry your bag with all the books you keep in there, let alone run down the hall with it on their shoulders." She sighed.

Hart merely scoffed derisively and turned her attention to her shoes. Ginny rolled her eyes and mouthed off silently behind Hart's back. All in good-natured humor, of course.

Hart was an interesting person. She was incredibly quiet in her classes and with other witches and wizards. Ginny had barely even noticed her before, aside from the initial attention to another red-headed girl of her year. Hart always had her nose stuck in some book or another. Unlike Hermione, however, Hart simply _adored_ fiction. Novels, poems, plays, she grabbed them off the library shelves with dizzying speed. Madame Pince had grown to become fond of the girl who cared so much for books and took such good care of them, not to mention such a deep interest in them.

Ginny had seen Hart reading silently in the library many times, yet rarely stopped to talk to the girl. They were amiable, but not really friends. Until their fifth year. That was the year that Hart had begun to become obsessed with her figure (which she really wasn't that bad- she was rather muscular, yet still slightly plump) and joined the Quidditch team as a Beater. The two spots for Beater on the Gryffindor Quidditch team had been filled with menial players to take the positions left by Fred and George Weasley. But once Hart had joined, everything seemed to click into place. The girl was quite good on a broom for no one having ever seen her practice, and her swing was deadly, as was her aim.

She pulled the team together and provided them with a backbone to support them. It may not have been much, but it was exactly what the team had needed. Ginny had given up her position as Chaser to fill in the other Beater spot. Always playing on uneven teams with her brothers, she often played different positions, and was actually quite good in any spot. The pair of them worked perfectly in synchronization, earning them many jokes (spurred by their similarity in looks-hair and figure were rather alike) about being makeshift twins in replacement of the former Weasley twins.

And of course, after that, Ginny and Hart had sparked. They really were two of a kind, not only in looks, but in mannerisms as well. There was a common love of books (though Ginny wasn't _quite_ as enthusiastic as Hart), a rare, witty sense of humor, and a wickedly devilish playful way.

Ginny was jerked out of her thoughts as Malfoy shoved past her, sneering as she dropped her books. Scowling, she bent to pick them up before resuming her thoughts.

Neither she nor Hart had had real friends (Hart being a silent bookworm, and Ginny pushed aside as Ron's little sister), and both bonded quickly. It was if they had become sisters overnight. And though Ginny often found herself irked by Hart's stubborn self-deprecation, she really loved the girl quite like a sister.

"Ginny-bean, wake up! We're here." Hart poked her playfully, using the nickname she knew Ginny hated. Ginny suck out her tongue as they entered the dark room that was their Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

……….

……….

Draco Malfoy just made it into his Potions class on time. Snape shot a glance at him as he sat down in the seat Blaise had saved for him. "Five points from Slytherin for dawdling and taking up valuable class time. Try to be ahead of time next time, Mr. Malfoy!" Snape snapped, sneering down at him before whirling over to his desk.

Draco's eyes widened, and he barely listened to the hisses and stifled laughter, no doubt from the Golden Trio. Snape _never_ took points from his own house, let alone from Draco. Draco's stunned state could only keep out the silent laughter from the Golden Trio for so long. He was about to turn to them with some rude remark, or perhaps an insult when Snape whirled, his eyes dancing angrily.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for disrupting my class! I want SILENCE! What does one have to do to earn some respect around here!" he whirled around again, leaving an entire class of very confused witches and wizards to stare at his back.

He had gotten his silence, however, he himself ended up breaking it, muttering angrily to himself as he scribbled something on a piece of parchment.

"…told Dumbledore…man won't bloody listen…wanting that position _years_, and he gives it to her! Bloody…I'll show her…thinks she can just show up…take my spot…I'll show her…who does she think she is? She's not the teacher…I was brought up to be the teacher…I wanted to be the teacher…she can just take a flying leap off Gryffindor tower…the stupid…" he cut off as he finished writing, slamming his quill down vindictively and folding the paper hastily.

He turned to the nearest table, his greasy hair falling out of place into his eyes. His wild black eyes sought the first person they focused on. "You! Take this up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom immediately!" He growled, thrusting the folded note into Gregory Goyle's huge paws.

Even a boy as thick as Goyle knew not to ask questions when Snape was in a frenzied craze as he was now. Standing, he silently left the room.

Snape was now crossly pulling vials and glasses from his desk, slamming them down with satisfactory crashing noises on the oak surface. The students in the class (seventh year Gryffindors and Slytherins) watched on in curious amazement.

Snape glanced up at the stillness in the room. "What are you looking at? Get to work, all of you!" he growled, anger seeping malevolently into his voice. For a moment, no one moved, such was the frightening intensity of his words. Then, slowly, painfully slowly, Hermione Granger's hand rose, trembling, yet firm.

Snape looked as if his eyes were going to bug out of his head. "What is it, Granger? Please do explain why you're bothering me with questions and not working on your potions! Ten points from Gryffindor for disrupting my class. Now do not speak unless you have a real issue to discuss with me." he growled.

Hermione's hand fell, as did her eyes. Staring intently at her feet, she spoke slowly and softly to them, though her words were directed to the large, sallow, oily man at the front of the classroom that was quickly becoming red enough to be mistaken for an overly large tomato.

"Well, sir. It's just that…well, you haven't exactly given us a task."

Snape's white hands were grasping his chair for support (or perhaps in anger). "I _beg_ your pardon?" he snarled. Hermione looked up at him. "We don't have an assignment. Sir." She added as Snape's upper lip began to tic grotesquely. She was right, of course, as she was Hermione Granger. Snape hadn't given them a new assignment, though now really wasn't the time to tell him so…

"Of course you have an assignment, Granger. You're working on the bloody Draught of Tranquility. Twenty points from Gryffindor for your impertinence!" He growled through clenched teeth, trying very hard to avoid stamping his foot or throwing himself down and beating at the floor with his fists.

The sniggering of the Slytherins and the groaning protests of the Gryffindors with a whispered '_Somebody_ needs a draught of tranquility…'shoved him unceremoniously over the brink of whatever calm he'd had.

"THIRTY POINTS FROM SLYTHERIN **AND** GRYFFINDOR! NOW WILL YOU ALL JUST MAINTAIN **COMPLETE** SILENCE FOR THE REST OF THE CLASS PERIOD!" he hissed heatedly, and stormed off to his store-room, muttering something that sounded oddly like 'a plague on both your houses'.

Whatever that meant.


	4. Professionalism and Disputes

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Hello. Me again. Wow. I'm such a total idiot. And no, I'm not stoned out of my brains, I just had an epiphany. I'm stupid. But I hope you like the story anyway. Should be entertaining. Probably won't be. But hey, what do you expect?

**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine unless it doesn't come from a Harry Potter book by J. K. Rowling.

* * *

**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter 4: Professionalism and Disputes

* * *

**

Ginny and Hart entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom in keen expectation. Both the red-haired girls glanced around, their gazes similarly curious. Ginny's warm cocoa ones glanced around, looking for their teacher, who hadn't been seen last night in the Great Hall. Hart's typical Irish red-head sea-green ones flickered with interest over the intricate magical items that were stacked neatly in the front of the room. Hogwarts had never had luck with Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers. They all left for some reason or another, staying only one term.

All the students, both Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were casting eager looks around the classroom, wondering who they would have this term. Their last professor had been a rather dropping old wizard who jumped at sudden noises and shuffled around the room in the most aggravating manner. Needless to say, they had not learned much in the past two years. Although Professor Montride had been an improvement from the disastrous Professor Umbridge.

Ginny and Hart took their seats at the front of the room, hastily putting away their bags and pulling out fresh parchment and quills. The chattering around them stopped abruptly as a loud bang of the door signified the entrance of the professor.

Every single pair of eyes went to the back of the room.

"Eyes forward this instant!"

Every single pair of eyes went to the front of the room.

But not before they had all caught a glimpse of one of the most striking figures they'd ever laid eyes on. A tall woman with incredibly pale, clear skin strode to the front of the room, snapping shut windowpanes with her wand as she went, a movement that many recognized as one of their other teacher's.

She went to the very front of the room and stood before them leaning back against her pure mahogany desk, almost purposefully giving the class a good look at her, as if she was fully aware of her imposing stature and amazing looks, and wanted to use them to gain authority. But she already had that. Her physical traits only magnified the absolutely powerful intensity of her being.

And the entire class did stare at her. They couldn't help it; she was breath-taking. She was not beautiful, nor gorgeous, nor pretty or cute. But she was alluring. All their gazes were attracted to her, and sensing this, she held her strong chin up to them and stared down at them.

Her hair was long and dark, more than just black, it was so dark. It contrasted starkly with the near-white pallor of her fair skin. It was brushed back, long and silky, hanging down her back unadorned save for a few straight plaits. Her eyes were elongated and sharp, piercing like Snape's, and nearly as cold; again, so brown they were practically black. Her nose was pointed in perfection, coming up to a ski-jump-like tip. Her lips were pale, thin, and wide, even though they were not set in a smile. Her sharp jaw line ended in an even sharper chin.

Her long, graceful neck was bare, except for a single strand of black twine around her ivory throat. She was wearing long, silky black robes that clung to her lean, slightly skeletal body in some places, and flowed around her in others, giving her an elegant, billowy look. She could have been nearly forty, or she could have been barely twenty. She seemed almost immortal standing there. She was altogether striking, and she knew it.

Once she figured they had taken their fill of looking, she stood straight and tall, almost six feet. In a clear, crisp, firm voice, she spoke. Her resemblance another teacher in this point was nearly unbearable. As he did, she had the ability to command the attention of a class with a single word.

"Welcome to your sixth year of Defense Against the Dark Arts. I am Professor Odekerk, and I shall be instructing you in the fine art of self-defense. I heard from your second year teacher, Professor Lupin, that you've studied all types of magical creatures, and after that you studied curses with Professor Moody…" where she had said Lupin's name softly, she veritably spat out Moody's. "Or should I say Professor Crouch…" she added spitefully. In Ginny's third year a Death Eater named Crouch had masqueraded as a well-known Auror.

"After that you studied bookwork with Professor Umbridge." Again, the disdain in her voice was apparent. "And just last year you studied minor curses and their counter-curses with Professor Montride." She sniffed in disapproval. "This year you will be studying the more refined, rare, and dangerous curses, including the Unforgivable Curses, which I hear you glanced over last year." She folded her arms neatly over her chest.

"I would like to take the opportunity to explain now, before we start, that this is not a simple class you can pass merely by staying awake. Nor is this a book-based class. This is a practical class, and magic will be a key essential in our curriculum. I expect for you to work steadily and concentrate fully in your work in this class. I have no patience for indolence or idleness, and will tolerate neither in this class. If you cannot comply to my wishes, you will be asked to leave this class. I will not have lazy students littering this class and soiling it for those who show real aptitude and work-ethic. Do you understand?" she asked icily, staring around the room.

Not a person moved. Many barely dared to breathe. Some were scared by the harsh, daunting DADA teacher. Some were wary of her, and a few were impressed by her. Both Ginny and Hart were among the latter group. Their eyes were wide as they took in everything the striking woman said.

As no one spoke, the corner of her mouth flicked up in a half-smile (or was it a half-smirk?- it was too quick to tell) and she turned around, reaching into her robes to pull out her wand. Her back to them, they could still hear some of the words she was chanting.

Suddenly, she whirled around and, pointing her wand at a random Hufflpuff boy, shouted, "Arduos Plumite!" The poor boy's eyes had barely enough time to widen in shock before his body sank to the ground with a thud.

Many people gasped, and a few of the girls shrieked in fear. Ginny turned to the DADA teacher calmly. She was the only one to do so. Everyone was crowding around the fallen boy, and even Hart was leaning over in her seat, a frown creasing her brow.

Professor Odekerk scanned the room, and her glinting eyes fell on Ginny, hands folded on her desk, staring keenly, yet evenly at the older witch. For a moment, the witch's severe gaze softened in surprise and a glimpse of approval flitted through them before her stern mask was back up, gliding over the rest of the room.

Ginny simply hid a grin. Her first, motherly instinct was to run over to the boy and check to see if he was alright. But one of her valuable traits was her common sense, and she knew without a doubt that Dumbledore would never (usually) hire someone who could possibly harm them. She also knew that while arresting and a tad frightening, Odekerk was not a danger to them. She would not injure them: Ginny somehow knew, and for that reason, Ginny knew the boy would be fine. Though new to her, the spell was not a deadly, dangerous, or Unforgivable one.

"Please sit down." Professor Odekerk stated simply. And though nearly everyone was going mad over the boy who had slipped from his chair to fall stone-like to the floor, they complied immediately. There was just no other option with her.

Odekerk smirked satisfactorily at the still-frightened sixth years before waving her wand almost indifferently and said softly, "Allevata." Immediately the boy's body relaxed and he hopped up, his eyes wide with of all things, _respect_ as he flexed his muscles.

"Wicked." He whispered, as the girl next to him tugged him down into his seat. Odekerk's lips flicked up again in that negligent smirk. "That," she began, waiting for the amazed whispers to finish. The talking stopped. "That was the Leaden Curse. Not deadly or too painful, (at least at first) it is, however, extremely effective. Once placed, it can only be lifted by the person who cast it. This makes counter-spells pointless unless you have the person who cast the spell in the first place. If the curse is left on over time, the muscles begin to wear down, eaten away by the spell, until the victim implodes upon him or herself."

She flicked her wand, and a screen came down from the ceiling, pictures illustrating the Leaden Curse on it. Many flinched at the depictive scenes, and others looked on in interest.

"The counter-curse, if said in time, loosens the muscles, making them free and refreshed. As Mr. Pagbin can attest to." She said, gesturing to the blonde Hufflepuff boy who was flexing his muscles and poking them, intrigued. He glanced up at her sheepishly, lowering his arm.

Odekerk strode around to the side of the class. "Up." She commanded, and everyone stood, almost all praying that they would be practicing the curse. "To the front of the class." She pointed, and all the students rushed to the front of the class. With a casual flick of her wand, all the desks went, shoved into a corner of the room, leaving a wide area in the middle.

"Unfortunately for the victim, the curse can only be removed, as I've said, by the caster. And equally as unfortunately, the caster usually does not wish to remove the curse. However, like many curses, there is a way to avoid letting the spell take complete control of you. Of course, there are no incantations, no spells to free yourself, but pure, raw magic, if directed and channeled in the right form, can work as a sort of counter-curse. So I will have to ask you all to put away your wands."

Many of the students reluctantly put away their wands. Odekerk gazed at them intently. Her gaze stopped on Ginny for a split second, and she seemed to be hesitating on something. But just as quickly, her sharp eyes moved on, across the room.

"You." She said, pointing to none other than Colin Creevey, a Gryffindor sixth year. He gulped nervously as the finger she was pointing at him with curled in a beckoning gesture. He stepped forward hesitantly. "Relax." She said, her voice softening just a bit.

Colin gulped audibly and took a deep breath, allowing his muscles to loosen. Odekerk gave him a rare half-smile, as if encouraging him not to be afraid. She placed her bony hand on Colin's shoulder, pulling him over to her side. She then spoke to the class.

"Like the Imperious Curse, you can avoid the control of the spell by resistance. However, it is not quite that simple. There is a certain charm- the Patronus Charm, that repels Dementors. It utilizes memories, which are strong forms of magic. Like the Patronus Charm's casting, the Leaden Curse's _resistance_ can be done with the use of memories, though with a slightly different twist."

Odekerk turned to Colin, leaning down a bit to look him in the face. "Boy- Creevey, I believe?" Colin nodded. "Right, Creevey. I want you to think back and find the thing that you've hated the most. I'm not talking long-term, but _one_ moment where you felt nothing but hate and bitter rage."

Colin's eyes hardened. He looked up at her. "Have you got it?" Odekerk asked. Colin nodded gravely, rolling up his sleeves. "Now, think of whatever that hate was directed at. When I place the curse on you, I want you to imagine that thing, or person…whatever it was that caused so much loathing in you. Imagine it, and when you feel the spell overtaking you, push it away with all that hatred." Colin nodded grimly, and Odekerk stepped away.

"Arduos Plumite." She said, waving her wand at Colin. Immediately the boy's body stiffened, his muscles visibly clenching. However, he did not fall to the ground. Instead, he lifted on his toes, straining with every inch of him to push off the curse. Everyone saw the effort coming off him. Beads of sweat popped out on his brow, and his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his lips set in an almost painful grimace.

Finally, Odekerk waved her wand again, just as Colin seemed to be tiring. "Allevata." She whispered, and flicked her wand again, conjuring a soft chair under Colin, which he fell into with the release of the draining curse.

Odekerk was practically glowing, though still in her non-smiling way. "Well done, Mr. Creevey. You see, Mr. Creevey here has resisted the curse, and I daresay with a little practice, he'll be able to throw it off completely." She flicked the corner of her lips at him, waving her wand over him once more. "Slakta." She whispered. Colin sighed and fell back in the chair easily. "Resisting the Leaden Curse takes a lot out of one. I believe you will sleep soundly tonight, Mr. Creevey." She smirked.

"He usually does." Someone called from the back of the class, eliciting laughter that broke the strange tension in the room.

At that moment, someone knocked and entered the door. Everyone, including Professor Odekerk, turned to see who it was. Gregory Goyle lumbered into the room, glancing at the assembled students.

He didn't see Odekerk until she had swooped down on him. And after that, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off her. "Uh…this is from…uh…Professor Snape told me to give this to you…you are the DADA teacher, aren't you?" he asked dumbly as Odekerk took the folded paper from his slack hand.

"Yes I am, and I believe you can go now." She said, already reading the paper. As Goyle left the room, her lips turned down in an angry frown. Her brows knitted together over eyes that darkened.

"The nerve!" she hissed, whirling around to her desk, her robes billowing out around her. She sat at her desk and began to scribble furiously on a sheet of parchment.

Ginny's attention left the irate professor as Colin stood and walked over to his friends, who were standing beside Ginny. "That was brilliant, Col! We thought you were going to fall, but you stayed up! Amazing! What did you think of?"

Colin's severe answer sent a chill over Ginny's heart.

"Whoever opened the Chamber of Secrets in my first year."

As the boys to her left began to talk about what they would think of in that situation, Ginny fell into a dark place in her head, thinking of the events in her first year that had lead to Colin and several other students being attacked by a basilisk.

No one knew (save the Golden trio, Dumbledore and her parents), but Ginny had been the one who had set the basilisk on her fellow students. Of course, she hadn't known what she was doing, but still, hearing Colin say with such certainty that the thing he hated the most was essentially _her_ made her want to cry.

Just as tears were beginning to form in her warm eyes, Professor Odekerk threw down her quill and began to fold the letter. She stood so suddenly she nearly toppled her chair. She strode briskly forward and shoved the paper into Ginny's hands.

Startled, Ginny glanced up at the collected lady. She was not so collected, her eyes blazing angrily as she stared down at the paper. Ginny shifted uncomfortably. She had an idea where the paper was headed, and if she was right, she didn't want to be the one delivering it.

"Take _that_ to Professor Snape and tell him to go jump off Gryffindor tower!" she hissed angrily, striding away in a huff and setting the room back up.

Ginny arched an eyebrow at Hart, who merely shrugged. Sighing, Ginny gave one last look at Colin, who was now laughing and conversing with his friends. He looked happy and fine, no idea that the thing he hated most was watching him sadly from just a few feet away.

Ginny sighed and left the room, allowing her feet to carry her down the familiar steps to Snape's Potions room. With her feet wandering, her brain decided to follow suit. She thought briefly of the Chamber of Secrets incident in her first year. It hurt like hell, not knowing what was happening half the time, and having everyone ignore her the other half of the time.

And at the end…when Harry had saved her…knowing that she had nearly gotten him, Colin, Hermione, and other innocent wizards killed…she had nearly broken down completely. It would take her another four years to break away from that pain, and even now she couldn't think of Hermione or Colin lying as if dead because of her without tearing up. It just hurt. Hurt that she had done it.

Sooner than she would have liked (she had begun to feel the familiar prickling sensation of tears behind her eyes), she found herself outside the Potions classroom. Furious at herself for being so ridiculously self-pitying, she frantically rubbed the tears from her eyes and (composing herself) knocked at the door.

She waited a second before entering. And the second she did, she wanted to turned tail and run right back out. She had forgotten that this was the seventh year Slytherins' class. She kept her head down as she walked to the front of the class, where Snape was fuming at his desk.

She didn't look up, though she knew she was being recognized by _her_. How could she have forgotten that _she _was in this class? And of course _she'd _recognize Ginny. Who could mistake that flaming red hair of hers? Still, she stared down at her feet as she made her way between tables to the front of the room.

Snape glanced up to see shy, timid little Ginny Weasley shuffling up to his desk. Under her sheet of auburn hair, he could see red-rimmed eyes and tear-flushed cheeks. He felt anger and disgust bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

Just what he needed; a pathetic little good girl like Ginny Weasley in tears. He still couldn't believe Dumbledore had chosen her of all people. The girl didn't look competent enough to take care of herself in the mornings (though her hair was usually brushed, face washed, and clothes fresh), let alone take care…_well, nevermind_. He thought as she deposited a piece of parchment on his desk and turned to leave.

"One moment, Weasley." He spat, looking down at the letter. He knew very well who it was from, and he knew it would do nothing to improve his sour mood. Besides, he'd already taken over fifty points total from both Slytherin and Gryffindor this class period, and he needed new blood. He could take his anger out on Weasley; she never objected. Just took his ranting and raving and went about her business. Maybe if he was lucky, he could make her cry.

Ginny turned, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling in a gesture that pleaded with some divine power for salvation from the hell she was sure to experience, by the looks of the mood Snape was in.

"What is this, and what is it doing on my desk?" He snapped at her. Ginny sighed heavily, turning fully to face the Potions master. "Professor Odekerk sent me with this, with instructions to deliver it to you. I have done so, may I please leave now?" she asked wearily.

Someone behind her sniggered, and Ginny stiffened, remembering Malfoy was in this class. Snape glowered at her. "Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheeky attitude." He spat, making Ginny clench her fists. More sniggering.

"Was that all Professor Odekerk said?" he spit the name out so forcefully Ginny was worried he might have spit it onto her. She stepped back a bit. Her blood boiled mercilessly as someone flicked something at her back. _Malfoy. _ She thought bitterly, hearing the now-familiar snigger sound behind her.

"Well, was that all Professor Odekerk said or not? Honestly, are you incapable of speech, or are you really just that slow, girl?"

Between the pain of having Colin's hatred directed at her, her own self-directed anger, Malfoy's sniggering, having _her_ in the class, and Snape's rotten attitude towards her, Ginny snapped.

"No, _Professor_ Snape." She sneered with such venomous Slytherin-ness that Snape sat back in his chair. "She also told me to inform you that you can bloody well jump off Gryffindor tower for all she cares! Personally, I'm inclined to agree! Just because you've got a problem with someone else (because heaven forbid you should find fault in yourself), it doesn't give you the bloody right to go around abusing your students and acting like some powerful god-like figure. You're a pitiable excuse for a man who takes points away to make himself feel superior. If there were no points system here, you would probably shrivel up and die, because that is the _only_ thing that earns you so-called "respect". So I suggest that you do us all a favor and take Professor Odekerk's advice!" she screeched finally, her voice having risen during her tirade to a veritable scream.

Without waiting for the sallow, slimy git to issue a zillion points from Gryffindor, Ginny whirled around and stormed from the room, but not before snatching up a frog spleen and hurling it right at Malfoy's face. She didn't even stop to see if it hit, and took _almost_ no delight in the satisfactory squelch of her missile hitting its target dead-on.

The Potions class was absolutely silent as the door banged shut after the fuming red-head.

Snape was breathing raggedly, gone a most disagreeable off-white shade. Harry's jaw had dropped, Ron had disappeared under the table, Hermione was somewhere between giggling or fainting or stern disapproval, and Draco looked as if the sky had just fallen, leaving a blank gap where Voldemort could be seen dancing the Macarena in his boxers. Or something similarly unlikely and disturbing.

A low chuckle broke the absolute dead stillness of the room. Everyone turned around to stare at the dark corner where Pansy Parkinson had been hiding, almost forgotten. The dark-haired witch was leaning against a cold wall in her seat, from where she had been surveying the whole scene with interest.

Nearly everyone's jaw dropped as she began laughing harder and harder, until she doubled over in her seat, tears of mirth streaming down her face. The entire class was silent except for her echoing laughter, but Pansy didn't care. She was far too busy enjoying the look on both Snape and Malfoy's faces.

Her estimation of Dumbledore's choice had just risen dramatically.


	5. Assigment Fulfilled

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Satan bless you all! (What? Some people take offense to 'God damn you', you know. Trust me.) That's right, I was just going to go in, check my reviews, and go out. Not. Instead of working on my Halloween costume at 10 at night (and yes, I am fifteen and wearing a Halloween costume...I'm a dork, so sue me...though I can't go trick-or-treating) I'm uploading more chapters. To GlassBroomsticks, I have no blood idea how many chapters are in this thing. I've only written about a third of it, and there's already two hundred pages. It's pathetic. Plus I have the Blaise-Ginny one I'm working on. Sheesh. IssaLee, your reviews make me laugh so hard...and believe me, it's a mistake to be eating sugar and drinking Red Bull while watching Dogma and reading your reviews. Yeah, my parents didn't like that at all...Bungle in the Jungle, I'm glad you don't think anyone's OOC yet, and I'm so thrilled about whatever it is I'm winning hands-down. Hoohah.

So, here it is: this chapter explains quite a lot, but not all. Just enough to still be mysterious and leave you wanting more. Or it would if I were a decent writer. As it is, I'll be mailing you blackmail and threats to make you all read this thing. Drat. Blackmail is so exhausting.

**DISCLAIMER: **Blah, blah, if it doesn't belong to J.K.Rowling, it belongs to me.

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**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter Five: The Assignement Fulfillment**

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Ginny managed to trudge wearily through the rest of her class. After the incredible performance of Professor Odekerk, the following class was disastrously boring. The History of Magic was one class she would have liked to have done without.

After having to listen to Professor Binns drone on about the Great Centaur Pact of 1612 for about an hour, Ginny finally was free from classes for the rest of the day. Not that she was completely free, mind. She still thought she was insane for agreeing with Dumbledore, but she was determined to uphold her end of the deal.

Hart turned to her as the Gryffindor sixth years began packing up their things to leave. "So, where is it you're going again?" she said nonchalantly, tucking a quill behind her ear. Ginny felt a grin tugging at her lips. "Nice try Hart. I've told you once, and I'll tell you again; I'm not allowed to tell." She managed a laugh at Hart's pout. "Fine, fine. Don't tell me. I'll figure it out sooner or later. But if it's something to do with a boy, Ron will kill you, you know that."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Ron can follow Snape and take a flying leap off Gryffindor tower." That sent Hart off on another round of wild laughter. "I still can't believe you said that! To his face!" Hart cackled wildly as Ginny pulled her from the classroom. "And I still can't believe he didn't expel me!" Ginny exhaled sharply.

It was time to go.

"Go on, Hart. You've got a Divination class to attend." She teased. Hart sobered immediately and groaned. "Don't remind me. And you don't have to go. Lucky bugger!" She waved off cheerfully. _You wouldn't think so._ Ginny thought wearily to herself as she turned in the opposite direction.

She was headed for the hospital wing, and she had to get there before the Magical Healing class began. She had no idea who was in the class, but she had been told that under no circumstances was she to be seen with her…parcel.

Luckily, the History of Magic class was rather close to the wing, so she walked briskly there, breaking the urge to run. She arrived in almost no time. None of the students had even arrived yet. She slung her bag onto her back and poked her head into the small office in the back of the wing.

"Madame Pomfrey?" she called out.

"Shush child, do you want to wake her?" Ginny whirled around as the brisk healer strode forward, holding a bundle of cloth in her arms. "Take her, she's been sleeping for ages, so I don't know when she'll wake." She said, gently depositing the bundle into Ginny's arms. She smiled satisfactorily as Ginny wrapped her arms carefully under it. Just the right way. "Well, at least I won't have to teach you how to take care of her. When she wakes, feed her this, and after that, just hold her, and-" Ginny cut her off as she ducked her head down and peered into the opening in the blankets.

The soft, pale skin clenched at her heart. The tiny little eyes, closed softly in slumber made her smile. The tiny little nose, so familiar it made her heart ache twitched in sleep. The cherubic mouth was soft and moist, a sweet shade of pink.

Ginny stared down at the tiny infant in her arms so softly that Madame Pomfrey stopped. She stared at the girl in silence for a moment. It was now obvious why Dumbledore had chosen her to take care of the baby. She had just seen the thing, and already her eyes had softened in a kind, motherly gaze, her fingers coming up to brush the dark curls softly as she made soothing noises in the back of her throat.

To tell her what to do with the child would be pointless. Redundant. Like telling Snape not to wash his hair. Madame Pomfrey's gaze also softened as she watched the girl. The image was absolutely charming. She herself had only done her job as a nurse, taking care of the child. Ginny was already loving it like a mother.

Madame Pomfrey suddenly snapped to attention. She was lucky she'd only let her thoughts wander for a few seconds. "Oh! Hurry, Miss Weasley. I have a class in here, and they'll be arriving any moment. Your rooms are just down the hall, in an old, unused classroom. It's been converted, of course, but you'll recognize it as the one next to the portrait of Sir Godfred Milington of Cadaway. Take care he doesn't go off yelling about dragons and wake her." She warned as Ginny began to hurry off.

Exiting the wing, Ginny realized she was just in time. She heard several familiar voices just around the corner she was hurrying away from, and it was not pleasant. She quickly turned her back and shielded the tiny child in her arms from view as Malfoy, Zabini, and about half the Slytherin seventh years rounded the corner on their way to their Magical Healing Class.

Ginny kept walking, praying they would just leave her be.

"Hey, little weasel. What's the hurry? Are you late for class, or for work? I hear they've had to hire someone to clean Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Is it you?"

Obviously not.

"Sod off, Malfoy. I don't have time for you." She said over her shoulder, hurrying away, careful to keep the bundle away from his view. The little girl in her arms stirred and for one heart-stopping moment, she was afraid Malfoy had woken her. But she merely re-settled herself and fell back asleep.

"Ooh, look who's grown a backbone. But I expect you to look at me when I'm talking to you, weasel." Ginny squeezed her eyes shut as she heard Malfoy's footsteps approaching behind her. She braced herself for his discovery of her bundle, and then…

"Malfoy. Leave her alone."

Ginny had to stop herself from whirling around at the sound of Pansy Parkinson's voice, cold and like nails driving through ice and steel behind her. Malfoy's approach had stopped. Ginny chanced a glance over her shoulder.

Pansy was standing in front of Malfoy, hands on her full hips, apparently glaring him down. Malfoy looked absolutely flabbergasted, as if this could not be the queen of his fan club glaring daggers at him for the sake of some Gryffindor nobody.

It was his absolute astonishment that allowed him to be shoved into the hospital wing, a feat Pansy most certainly wouldn't have been able to achieve if he'd been more alert.

As Pansy followed the other Slytherins inside, she turned, once, her hand on the doorframe as she regarded Ginny thoughtfully. Ginny did not turn from her gaze, but met it with a non-challenging, thankful gaze of her own. As if deciding something, Pansy gave a slight nod and entered the classroom, giving Ginny only a glimpse of an approving smile.

Ginny sighed in relief, and continued on, turning the corner and turning at the portrait of an elderly man with a mustache so long it disappeared off the edge of the painting. He stared intently at Ginny as she passed. He opened his mouth to say something, but Ginny put a slim finger to her lips and shook her head with a soft smile, glancing down at the sleeping babe in her arms. And for once, Sir Godfred Milington of Cadaway kept his mouth shut and let her by without a word.

Ginny exhaled and opened the door to a deserted classroom. She stepped inside and gasped, remembering last minute to be silent, and covering her mouth with her free hand. The room looked nothing like a classroom. There were no desks, no tables, no chairs. Strike that, there were chairs, but chairs such as should be in a comfortable living room, not a classroom. The space was wide, and the furniture sparse. In one corner was a huge four-poster bed, right next to a very comfortable-looking cradle. In the middle of the room was a large lavender shag rug, sprinkled with soft toys and stuffed animals.

There was a fireplace near the rug, guarded by magical barrier that random sparks bounced off of. The entire floor was carpeted with a thick, woolly light green color. Carpeting was a rarity in Hogwarts, but with a baby, there could be no taking chances.

The room was littered with dozens of other items. Baby toys, soft chairs, random objects. There was also a little pen in the corner, soft and plushy. Ginny looked around in wonder. If she could have been raised in a place like this…she recalled her cozy, yet cluttered baby room as she'd seen it in pictures. She smiled softly and strode over to the cradle.

Placing the still-sleeping child in the velvety cloth, Ginny shrugged off her bag and pushed it under the bed with her foot. Leaning over the cradle, she gently disentangled the infant from the cloth she'd been wrapped in. She had to smile at the typical green clothing the little girl was wearing.

Now that she wasn't swaddled in cloth, Ginny took a good look at her. Her head was bare, save for a few thin curls of dark hair. Her face was small and round, distinctive of babies. Her nose was an adorable little button in the middle of her face. She had soft, wide lips that rendered her so much like the cherubs in Baroque and renaissance art works. Her chin was weak and soft.

Ginny couldn't resist the urge to reach out a hand and stroke those tiny little curls, her touch was light and tender, barely the strength of a caressing wind. The child stirred and Ginny pulled her hand back with some difficulty to lean on the edge of the cradle, staring gently at the baby.

It struck her as odd how quickly she'd taken to the infant. Considering that it was Pansy Parkinson's child, she really had thought it would be hard to bond with her. But the moment she'd seen her, from the instant she'd held her in her arms, Ginny felt a characteristic tug of motherly instincts she'd unknowingly inherited from her mother. And she simply adored her.

_Evangel Parkinson._ She thought. Odd name. Yet it was pretty, and somehow suited her; for being a Parkinson, she was rather angelic-looking. She gazed down at the sleeping child and on a sudden instinct, leaned forward and pressed her lips in a soft butterfly kiss to the child's head, her breath delicately stirring the wisps of hair.

The baby's tiny, rosy mouth opened in a yawn and Ginny smiled, her eyes softening again. It was poetic, and had anyone entered the room right then, they would have thought they were seeing a mother and her daughter.

Ginny removed herself with another tiny kiss to a chair and settled down to read from her textbook.

……….

……….

Pansy Parkinson did not lead an easy life. None of the Death Eater children did, unless they openly supported the dark Lord Voldemort. And almost none of them did. Of course, those two morons Crabbe and Goyle did, as did Avery and Nott. Malfoy didn't exactly support Voldemort, but he didn't openly oppose him, either.

Pansy, on the other hand, did openly oppose the Dark Lord. It was the one thing in probably her entire life that she did for herself, for her own reasons. And it was the one thing that brought her the most grief and pain.

She simply did not care about the mudblood-pureblood struggle. Not since she'd found out that not only did her family have roots in Muggles, but Voldemort was the direct descendant of a Muggle. His father, in fact. And Pansy just didn't think the idea was worth fighting and dying for.

She had almost always obeyed her parents. Following Draco Malfoy around like some sad dog had been one of their plots. And the boy had the arrogance to believe it was all his own charm. Ha! The idea was laughable. Had her parents not told her to make acquaintances with (and perhaps bed) Draco Malfoy, Pansy might never have spoken to him. She didn't care for most of the other Slytherins. She respected Malfoy and somewhat liked Zabini, but the others were just too…scared. They were all afraid of their parents and afraid of the dark lord. They lived in limbo, not making their own minds, nor completely abiding by their parents' standards and rules. And for that, Pansy sneered contemptuously at them. They were no better than the scum of the other houses.

Pansy had been at her wits end at the beginning of her sixth year. Her parents were pressuring her to receive the Dark Mark, even though they knew very well that she was against it. She was running out of room to run.

And then she'd met him.

He was her heaven. She had met him on a Hogsmeade weekend. Malfoy had played a particularly nasty prank on her, making her sneeze flies (not a fun experience). She'd nearly been sick when the curse had finally stopped.

After rushing to the Three Broomsticks and fervently washing her face, she had soon realized that the water running down her cheeks was not completely from the washcloth. She had rushed off, hiding her tear-streaked face under her cloak hood, darting around witches and wizards and out into the streets.

At the time it had been snowing, and she could barely see where she was going. Not surprisingly, she had soon run into someone. Strong arms had grasped her waist to keep her from falling back. She'd looked up into a pair of coal black eyes, sparkling with mischief and laughter, set in a bronzed face.

He'd been about to make a laughing comment when he'd noticed her tears. And for the first time she could remember, Pansy had not been scolded for crying. She had not been laughed at, or teased. She had been hugged.

The tall, halfway between boy and man, had wrapped his arms around her in the middle of the street. Snow falling about them, people staring, and her being a stranger! Nevertheless, he had enveloped her in a sympathetic embrace that encouraged her to alleviate her tears. And she had. For some reason, she'd opened up for this stranger and allowed herself a few freeing tears.

And that had been that. After a few minutes, he'd taken her to Honeydukes for ice-cream and coffee. They'd sat, talking. And for once, Pansy actually enjoyed the conversation. The man (his name was Erom Saminda, originally from Calcutta) was full of laughter and always ready to laugh. Being around him made laughing contagious, and Pansy found herself laughing readily and often in his company.

After that initial meeting, she met him every Hogsmeade weekend. It was the sole highlight in her life, though she refused to believe that she was falling for him. But she did allow that she cared deeply for him.

And one day he'd kissed her. It wasn't rough or slobbery. It was soft and tender, a mere brush of his lips against hers that had left her aching for more. It was as serious as she'd ever seen him.

And after that, she refused to believe that she _wasn't_ in love. She just had to admit it. Nothing else lifted her up so much, or made her feel so alive. She loved him more than anything, and crazy thought it seemed, he loved her. There were so many new things he'd introduced her to. He made her feel witty, sweet, and beautiful. She believed him, too.

Their relationship had progressed rapidly for only being able to see him every other weekend or so. And then he'd invited her to spend Christmas break with him. He wasn't in school being three years older than her and graduated from Beauxbatons in France. He was a part of some joke shop that was just beginning in Hogsmeade, and he had his own flat.

Being alone with him for two weeks had been too tempting. Their relationship had progressed yet further, in a _very_ physical way. Pansy had been no virgin, but compared to Erom, the others had been nothing. They had spent two weeks that way…talking, laughing, kissing, sleeping together. It had been sheer bliss. Never had she felt so awake and content.

They continued to see each other on weekends, and for spring break, Erom had asked her to stay with him again. His flat was small and crowded now, with inventions and experiments. He wasn't rich or even well off. He was actually rather poor. But Pansy didn't care. Because he was so happy. And when she was with him, she was happy.

And just to add to their happiness, Erom had proposed to her. Pansy had nearly fainted, only her Parkinson blood had kept her from doing so. She had never, in her entire life, been loved. So she had immediately said yes. She loved him. They were going to have a life together, live together, have children together.

Having to attend school was hell. The only thing that kept her going was the little silver ring on the finger of her left hand. She could feel it burning cold into her skin, day and night with a sort of feverish intensity.

But then her heaven had fallen. It had loosened itself from the sky and crashed down to the ground with a sickening collision. She had read it in her weekly edition of the Daily Prophet, which was an absolutely horrible way to find out.

He had been out late one night in Diagon Alley, pockets full of money from a sale at the joke shop. He'd been walking along the border of Knockturn Alley when he'd been attacked by a group of pick-pockets. When he'd refused to give in to them without a fight, they took the easy way out.

A dagger between the shoulder blades.

Pansy had attended the funeral. She felt odd there, surrounded by a Hindi couple who were obviously his parents, and his entire family. Brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles… Pansy had stayed in the back, the tears never stopped flowing.

The only other non-dark-haired-and-skinned wizards there had been two boys with red hair, the hoods of their cloaks pulled up in front of their faces. But Pansy was under the impression that they were crying as well. She knew them; if only by first names. They worked…they used to work with Erom in the shop. One of them had placed a comforting hand of her shoulder as she cried.

They couldn't know her pain.

Or the pain that had ensued when she'd found out that she was pregnant with Erom's child. She knew she couldn't…she just couldn't kill his child. _Their_ child. But Pansy had so wanted to finish her schooling at Hogwarts. Where else was she to go? Home? To her parents? To Voldmort? Certainly not.

Her choices were limited. So she went to the one person she trusted in the entire school. Snape had been a sort of guardian for her since her fourth year, when she had first denied the Dark Mark. She knew that he had the Mark, but that he had renounced his title as Death Eater. She knew she could talk to him and tell him everything.

She remembered sitting in his empty classroom, the tears spilling down her face in front of the only person she would let she her cry. He had listened as she told him of her condition, her life, of Erom, how she just couldn't give up the child, how she couldn't go home.

"_I just don't know what to do anymore. Erom…he was the only thing that kept me going. And he's gone. I just don't know what to do. I don't even think I have a future anymore." _

_Snape had touched her chin, tilting it up and staring intently at her. _

"_You remind me of someone I loved…when she was little. You have the same stubborn streak in you. At the same time, you're too ready to give up. I'll take this to Dumbledore. We'll figure something out."_

"_Snape?"_

"_Yes?"  
_

"_Thank you."_

And they had figured something out. Pansy had stayed the rest of the year; she didn't start showing apparent signs of birth until well into the summer. And then Snape had carried out a plan he and Dumbledore had formed. It would allow her to attend her seventh year almost in full.

Snape had mixed an experimental Potion for her. It was one that had just been invented, though not very well known, since it had very little use. It had, however, suited their needs. It allowed Pansy's pregnancy to go on in half the time it usually took. She gave birth to a healthy baby girl about a month before school let back in.

And Pansy hated her.

Pansy had thought that she could deal with the child. It was his child after all. Perhaps she could find some of the love for him and give it to the child.

But no. From the second she'd laid eyes on the child, she'd felt disgusted. It was nothing like Erom. Its eyes squeezed shut as it screamed; it resembled Pansy in almost every way. The button nose that others cattily called pug-like, the pale, almost sickly skin, the few scarce curls of dark hair that were nothing like Erom's thick, shiny black waves, the weak chin that came entirely from Pansy.

And she despised it. It was ugly and horrid and it took all her control not to give it away for adoption. She wanted to, though. She just didn't love it. She hated it. The one touching thing she'd done was to name it Evangel, after a dragon that belonged to Erom's brother. Erom had loved that dragon, and his brother had allowed him to name it.

After giving birth to it, Pansy more or less abandoned it. With her parents temporarily in hiding with Voldemort, Pansy used their money to pay for a wet nurse. After giving birth to it, Pansy ignored it. After giving birth to it, Pansy left it.

But then her parents had come back.

Pansy had barely managed to escape with money and the baby, asleep in a strap at her back, through the Floo system. She'd gone to the first place she'd thought of; Hogwarts. Snape had been watching out for her, and left the system to his office open.

She'd Flooed in and found him there, waiting. As if he knew she'd be coming. She'd explained everything, and Snape, in turn, offered her a chance. A chance to attend most of school and still keep the child.

He'd offered her residence at the school. And a dual mothership. Dumbledore had devised it, with a particular student in mind. Imagine Pansy's surprise when that student turned out to be Ginevra Weasley.

After arriving at Hogwarts, she's handed off the child to Madame Pomfrey and shut herself in a large classroom that had been converted into a room, complete with baby furnishings and all. She hated every moment of it. She wanted Erom. She wanted the love they'd had. She didn't think to look for the love in the child, she just lapsed into thoughtless oblivion.

And school started.

Pansy was sitting in her Magical Healing class, staring out the window. She had to admit, after the morning's earlier outburst, Ginny Weasley was no soft, fluffy Gryffindor. The girl was strong and sure, and Pansy had no qualms about giving her the child. After handling Snape as she had, Pansy couldn't help but admire the girl. No one, not even Malfoy himself would stand up to Snape when he was in one of his moods. And had Snape been in one of his moods! Pansy had rarely seen him so angry, though she supposed it had something to do with the fact that a little-known _woman _witch had gotten the position Snape wanted so badly.

Pansy had found Ginny's outburst rather entertaining. She decided that perhaps Dumbledore wasn't as cracked as people made him out to be. Ginny Weasley seemed exactly the kind of girl Pansy wanted to take care of Erom's child.

They had it arranged that the child would go around to three witches during the school week. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, the baby stayed with Madame Pomfrey in the morning. Ginny then took it for the day. Pansy took it for the evenings, sleeping in the same room with it. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Ginny would take her for the evenings while Pansy watched her in the morning. On the weekends, Pansy had her Saturday while Ginny had her Sunday.

Pansy's only wish was that Ginny could take the thing permanently. How she hated it. If only there was something of Erom in her. Something to love. But there was nothing. Nothing. She didn't want this. This child that was more of a burden than her own. It was a pain.

"Miss Parkinson? I was just asking the class what to do with an infected Brazarkel bite. Do you have any thoughts?"

Madame Pomfrey's voice broke in through Pansy's daydreaming. Her dark head snapped up, and she regarded the woman with steely dark blue eyes. "The best treatment for a Brazarkel bite is the crushed wings of the Brazarkel itself, mixed with diluted Bubotuber pus." Pansy said dully. She hadn't memorized it from the book, like Granger did, but read and absorbed it. What the hell else was she supposed to do in the five months she'd been pregnant?

Madame Pomfrey gave her a surprised look, as did many of the Slytherins and Ravenclaws. Pansy rarely offered information up, and almost never gave a serious answer. Pansy ignored their stares. She had to go through a lot to attend school this year. She wasn't going to fake ignorant stupidity for the sake of appearances anymore.

"Correct, Miss Parkinson. Five points to Slytherin."

Pansy went back to staring out the window. She didn't realize she was being watched.


	6. WTF?

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I'm back. Here's the next installment. You may think things are moving fast now, but oh, just you wait. starts tap-dancing around and adopts Cockney accent, singing at top of lungs 'Just you wait, Henry Higgins, just you wait...' oh dear... slinks off into corner, muttering 'My Fair Lady, my arse...' Sorry for that diversion, now on with the show. Things are starting to pick up and if you didn't think people were OOC, you will soon enough. And too bad. Because they're bastards who are being excruciatingly difficult to manage. So, tada, damnit.

**DISCLAIMER:** not mine if it belongs to J.K.Rowling.

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**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter Six: WTF?**

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Draco Malfoy's day had started out badly enough. He had gotten very little sleep, thoughts of Pansy disturbing him. How could she have killed her own child? Because he was certain that that was what she had done. There was no other explanation.

He had dragged himself sleepily to Potions, earning him five points from Slytherin for being late from an irate Snape. He had suspected that Snape would be angry about the new DADA teacher, but he hadn't expected _this_. Snape was absolutely _livid_. Draco was convinced that the man was seconds away from throwing books when who should walk in but little Ginny Weasley.

A nearly crying Ginny Weasley. Draco had grinned to himself as Snape began to take his anger out on the little red-head. He'd picked up a beetle eye and flicked it at her back.

Of course, he hadn't expected to girl to blow up at Snape and launch frog guts at him either. That had been a bit surprising. Not to mention revolting. And it had done nothing to improve Snape's attitude, which continued to descend in a downward spiral. He'd ended up taking about a hundred points from both Slytherin and Gryffindor by the end of the class.

After that (and Pansy's odd explosive laughter), Draco had hauled himself off to his Magical Healing class. And who should he encounter but little Ginny Weasley?

The most startling thing (aside from the girl keeping her back to him) was that Pansy had actually stood up for the girl. Pansy Parkinson! Standing up for Ginny Weasley! It was blasphemous. No Slytherin _ever_ helped any other student, let alone a _Gryffindor_.

Draco shook his head as he watched Pansy Parkinson. She was certainly different, that was obvious. For one, except to scold him about Ginny, she hadn't even glanced at him once, let alone talk to him. She wasn't hanging all over him, she wasn't simpering over him, she wasn't stressing over her appearance, she didn't seem to be worried about anything really.

She seemed somehow older. She was no longer a whining little girl. She appeared to have matured into a woman over night. She was heavier, yes, but attractive nonetheless. She had rounded curves and a full figure that itched to be touched. Draco shook his head. This could not be the same little girl who tagged around him begging to be kissed, touched, shagged. This smart, intelligent, strong, ruthless, cold young woman could not be the same annoying little girl he'd known.

But she was. And she wasn't giving Draco the time of day.

Draco growled to himself. Where did Pansy get off scolding him? And where did the little weasel bitch get off turning her back to him? It was insulting, and it would not be tolerated.

Draco smirked as class let out. He would get even with the both of them; he'd show them.

……….

……….

Ginny started as the door to the room opened suddenly. Evangel had awoken two hours ago, crying loudly. Ginny had taken her up in her arms and fed her a concoction she assumed Snape or Madame Pomfrey had prepared.

Eventually, Evangel had calmed down. And Ginny fell in love with her all over again. She opened those huge eyes, and Ginny had been startled to find that they weren't dark blue like Pansy's. They were probably the only feature the child hadn't inherited from her mother. Evangel (or Angel, as Ginny called her softly) had wide, absolutely coal-black eyes. They were bright and happy, pure childishly innocent pools of black.

Ginny had just been rocking the angel in her arms, singing softly when Pansy stepped through the door. Ginny started before recognizing her. She shifted uncomfortably as Pansy stepped through the door and closed it behind her. She wasn't really sure how she was supposed to act towards this girl who had been a sort of enemy for as long as she could remember.

Sure, she was taking care of the child, but how was she supposed to act towards the mother? Pansy took the problem away from her, however, and stepped forward emphatically. She stuck out her hand and waited for Ginny to take it with her free one.

"Weasley." She said, though without the contempt that the name usually held when said by Slytherins. Ginny cradled Evangel protectively to her shoulder and dropped Pansy's hand. "Please, Ginny." Ginny corrected. For some reason, this situation just didn't warrant a last-name basis.

Pansy's lips curved up in a satisfied smile. "Pansy." She said, touching a hand to her chest. Ginny smiled. "You look well, Pansy." She said amiably, rocking Evangel in her arms. Pansy nodded, keeping her eyes away from the bundle of cloth lying on Ginny's shoulder. "As well as can be expected for just having given birth to that thing." She said, her voice suddenly harsh as she gestured to the infant.

Ginny's eyes widened and she instinctively hugged the child closer to her breast, wrapping her arms gently, yet firmly around her. The amount of venom and hatred in Pansy's voice startled Ginny.

She hadn't thought that Pansy loved her child completely, or else she would have given up school to take full care of her. But she hadn't expected her to hate Evangel.

Pansy watched the younger girl. She wasn't the little girl Pansy remembered, but then again, people did change. She herself was a testament to that. But Ginny Weasley just looked right, holding the child affectionately to her chest. She looked more mature, as Pansy herself did. She was fuller, wider hips, bust, and rear, though her waist was still rather small, as were her arms.

Her gorgeous red hair was pulled back in a bun, and she had a tired, kind look in her eyes that just made her seem comfortable to be around. She looked like a Mother Mary, a Madonna with all the kindness of the world in her chocolate eyes. She had gentility and a certain soft grace, but more than that, she had understanding. She was an open ear for listening, a free shoulder to cry on, a strong pillar of support.

And in that one moment, Pansy found the support she'd been hoping for.

She turned from Ginny and sank down on the floor, all her exhaustion of the past few months seeping from her, leaving her cold, empty, and even sicker than she had been.

Ginny gently placed Evangel down in her crib and walked over to the now-sobbing girl sitting in the middle of the room. Ginny couldn't expect to know the amount of pain the older girl was feeling; she knew about the death of Evangel's father, about how Pansy had really been in love, had been happy. Everyone had seen it, as well as the pain and tortured looks she had worn during the last couple of months after his death.

She didn't know how much she was hurting, but she did know that she was hurting, that she was alone, and she was tired of it. Kneeling down beside the trembling girl, she tentatively rubbed her back soothingly. As soon as Pansy felt that soft, comforting touch, she broke down completely, weeping harshly, and threw herself at Ginny, wrapping her arms around the red-head's neck.

Ginny stared down at Pansy's heaving shoulders in shock for a moment before wrapping her own arms around her and holding her as she'd held Evangel just minutes before, rocking back and forth and whispering softly in her ear.

She knew (from having six brothers and Harry and Hermione, who could never stay peacefully together for more than a week) that Pansy just needed solace and a shoulder to cry on. She needed more than anything to cry. Ginny knew the negative affects of holding in tears. It tore you up, left you bare. Crying might be frowned on, but it was one of the most relieving activities a person could engage in, next to beating up a Malfoy.

They sat there, two students who were different in many ways, but alike in so many others. Two girls who should have hated and despised one another. Two girls who should have repelled like similarly charged magnets. Instead they were sitting there, one comforting the other, the other being comforted.

It was touching, it was odd, and it was genuine. And no one, not even the two girls, understood it. Or ever would. It just simply was.

……….

……….

Eventually Pansy stopped shaking. She sat there for a few seconds, letting Ginny stroke her hair soothingly and murmur softly to her. She finally sat up, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve. Ginny pulled her wand from her pocket. "Accio tissue." She said, and in seconds, a tissue was floating to her. She handed it to Pansy, who gratefully blew her nose in it.

Ginny pulled herself to her feet and helped Pansy do the same. She led the older girl over to the bed, where she sank down wearily. Ginny pulled up and chair and sat silently, yet expectantly.

Pansy took a few more moments to pull herself together. Then she spoke. "I loved him. You won't understand; not if you think that all Slytherins are cold-hearted bastards and bitches. You're probably right. But I did love him."

And she told Ginny the whole story. Unlike with Snape, she felt that this time she could tell her everything, even the parts about how strong her love was. It felt so right. And Ginny was the perfect listener. She said nothing. She didn't do anything either, unless it was to soothe Pansy if she started crying again.

"And I just can't help but hate her. I know it's not what Erom would have wanted, but I just can't help it. I look at her and I see me. I see a girl who might grow up to be like me, and I hate it. Before Erom, I hated just about everything in me. When I met him, I loved him entirely, and he made me love myself. But when I look at her, I just see the girl I hated. Me." She sniffled, tears forming in her eyes again.

"I just wish Erom were still alive. If he were here, he'd make me see her. He'd make me love her. It's just how he was. He saw the good in everything. It's the only reason he gave me a chance. He saw something there. I'm just not like him, though. All I see is her flaws and her bad points. There's nothing good in her."

Ginny leaned forward and touched a soft hand to Pansy's chin, tilting it up as Snape had once done.

"Pansy, there's plenty of good in her. I can feel it. Just like there's plenty of good in you. If only you'd just believe in it. I believe in you. You're not the same girl who used to hang around Malfoy and tease others. You're older, you're wiser, and you're better. They did that. Erom and Angel. They made you who you are. You just have to let them."

Pansy sobbed brokenly. "I can't! He's dead!" she ducked her head, tears pouring down her cheeks. She barely noticed that the comforting hand was gone. She didn't notice that Ginny had gotten up until she felt her sit back down next to her.

She raised her head, and found herself looking into Erom's eyes.

"He's not entirely dead, Pansy." Ginny said softly, holding Evangel on her knee. Pansy stopped crying and just stared at the infant. She saw herself, of course, as she had seen her when she'd first looked at her. But she'd never seen the child's eyes.

Now she was seeing them. But they weren't the child's eyes. They were Erom's. They were so much like Erom's that Pansy thought she was looking into his eyes. Perhaps she was. All she knew was that in a little month-old baby were the eyes of the person she had loved most passionately.

And her heart went out to it. The little creature that she had housed in her body. The tiny being that she and Erom had created together, of their love. His eyes…the eyes that sparkled with laughter and life, were there, in her face.

Ginny watched expectantly as tears began to fall down Pansy's face again. She felt a smile tugging at her lips. They were tears of happiness. Tears of pain. Tears of wonder.

Pansy raised those watering blue eyes to Ginny in admiration. "It's…it's…those…Ginny, it's _him._ Those are his eyes." And without warning, she pulled the child into her arms. Ginny fought the instinctual urge to snatch the infant back, and allowed Pansy to cradle the child to her chest.

Pansy cried as the infant wriggled in her arms, cooing happily. Ginny smiled as she saw the honest love that peeked out of Pansy's eyes as she gazed at her child. Pansy looked up at Ginny and laughed, tears still falling down her cheeks. She turned her gaze back to Evangel, who was blissfully unaware of the exchange that had just occurred that would probably have a major impact on her life in the future.

Pansy just kept laughing and alternately holding the baby out to stare at her eyes. She was completely enamoured with Evangel (which Ginny expected must be something like seeing part of the dead back alive), and soon became oblivious to everything else.

Ginny silently slid off the bed and grabbed up her belongings. She turned one last time to see Pansy tentatively take the small, podgy hand in hers before she turned to leave, a worn smile on her lips.


	7. Oh, Merlin kill me, please

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Okay, WARNING: shitty writing ahead. I can't bear to read how bad it is, so I can't tell you just how much you should be wary of being sick whilst reading it, but be assured, eating heavily before or during reading could possibly hazardous to one's health and the status of one's personal belongings in a five-foot radius. Spewage most certainly anticipated. Gods, I think I've made myself sick. Well, there's more of the Golden Trio in this chapter, and Pansy and Draco get back in character a bit. Pay attention to the Dream Team's wordings in what they say; it will come back to bite them in the arse. Not really, just enjoy your anticipated sickness.

**DISCLAIMER:** not mine if it belongs to J.K.Rowling.

Also, the author is not responsible for any serious sickness this fucking awful chapter may cause- you have been warned; read at your own risk.

Barf bags not included.

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**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter Seven: Oh, Merlin kill me, please...**

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Hermione ducked her head under a pillow of the sofa she was lounging on.

"_Where have you been!"_

Hermione rolled her eyes under the cloth. Of course she should have known no amount of layering or cloth could block out the Weasleys when they were going at it.

And she'd thought it was bad when there were five of them here…

Although Hogwarts was left (oh pity) with only the two youngest Weasleys, it seemed that the ear-splitting vocal capacity had not been distorted in the least. Hermione cursed this fact repeatedly in her head as she continued to try and drown out the shrill argument that was piercing her eardrums even through her pillow.

It didn't work.

"_Ronald Weasley, what I do in my time is none of your business!"_

"_Of course it is, you're my little sister! Honestly, Ginny! 'None of my business…'"_

Hermione winced as he scoffed derisively. _Oh brilliant move, Ron._ She thought. The only 'moves' Ron had were in chess. Hermione didn't even live with the girl and she knew that derisiveness was no way to confront her when she was nettled.

The strident scream that Hermione was waiting for never came. She tentatively peeked out from under her pillow. Harry was reading a Quidditch strategy book in the chair across from her, fighting to keep a straight face. He was losing miserably. Ron and Ginny were squared off in the middle of the common room. Several sixth and seventh years had gathered around to watch the siblings go at in interest.

Ron was frowning forcibly at Ginny, his fists clenched at his sides. Ginny was, for her part, doing the one thing he hated most: ignoring him. When she ignored him, he had no legs to stand on. She knew it and used it.

Ron's countenance was quickly growing darker, his face growing an unhealthy reddish-purple. Ginny stared down at her hand, admiring her nails with one hand on her hip, matching Ron's fury with her own annoying brand of patient serenity.

"Ginevra Weasley!" He finally exploded, spit flying as many of the students ducked or scampered away. The boy had quite a good range. Ginny didn't move, though her eyes warily watched a few drops of spit fly past her ear.

She turned purposefully to Hermione, who was tentatively crawling out from under her protective mound of pillows. "Well, I'm off to bed. See you in the morning 'Mione." She chirped cheerfully.

Ron's mouth was opening and closing almost soundlessly. (Though not as soundlessly as Hermione would have liked.) "What the bloody hell do you think you're up to Ginevra Weasley!" Ron grounded. Ginny whirled on him, her eyes deadly cold. "Not that this situation warrants full names, but what I'm doing, _Ronald Weasley_, is going up to bed. I'm tired. I've had a long day made longer by my annoying excuse for a brother. What I do is my business, and maybe, just maybe, if you'd asked instead of demanded, I might have told you." She glowered at him with such icy intensity that even the brilliant fire in the hearth seemed to shrink under it, flickering low. "But then again, I might not have."

And with that, she was gone. Harry frowned at his Quidditch book as Hermione scampered away. She hadn't even said goodnight to him. Not that he cared that much; she hadn't even said goodnight to Ron, and he was her brother. Plus he'd never been interested in Ginny...well, never seriously… Actually, he'd never really been interested in anyone, save for Cho.

Thinking of Cho, Harry's frown deepened. Cho…had been disastrous. Their one date, just last summer, had been catastrophic. He'd always thought himself to be head-over-heels for the girl, but upon actually being with her, he realized how dreadfully dull it was. It was all 'oh no my hair's out of place', or 'does this dress make me look fat', or 'ack, I forgot to shovel makeup on my face, excuse me for a moment…or an hour'.

She'd even leaned in to kiss him, to which he'd instinctively turned his face. As her lips brushed his cheek, he made a mental note to never date someone he didn't know that well. It was strange, considering his strong attraction to her. She was really very pretty, after all, but once he'd dated her and been around her _constantly_, it was rather monotonous.

So needless to say, that night he'd had neither a good snog or a clean shirt. For being a Seeker, the girl had the arm of a Chaser. Sadly, his poor robes never got over the pasta and spaghetti incident, and the pumpkin juice stains just refused to come out. Honestly, he hadn't thought she would take rejection so badly.

Shaking his head slowly as Ron stomped like a mad frog around the common room, Harry went back to his book. But there was something nagging at the back of his mind that he'd thought about (and shoved ruthlessly into the recesses of his mind) before.

What the hell was wrong with him?

As far as girls were concerned, he was at a complete loss. Even Ron seemed to have more sense in that field, dismal though he was in it. He'd had a crush on Cho (which had wholly dissolved), he liked Hermione, but only in the best friend kind of way, and Ginny was like his little sister…though admittedly quite attractive. Those were the three main girls in his life.

Cho was gorgeous, but aside from that, rather flat and lacklustre…and a tad artificial. Hermione was actually quite pretty, and really annoyingly intelligent. She was smart, no-nonsense, but at the same time, natural. Being around her was effortless. But she was just a friend, albeit a best one. Ginny was rather fetching, in a pure, natural way. She wasn't a bit plain or ordinary (how could you be, with that striking hair colour and arresting eyes), but still very pretty-looking. She'd grown into a delicately sweet young lady.

Actually, she already had…

He'd seen her on the first day back…it was like she'd grown up unexpectedly. If he thought about it, she didn't look any different than last year. And when McGonagall had headed toward their table, Harry had honestly thought she was coming to speak to him. When she bent down to whisper in Ginny's ear…Ginny wasn't a little girl.

She hadn't been for a while.

Lifting his feet absent-mindedly as Ron stormed by, Harry mentally cleared his head and went back to Quidditch, eager to get back to something he actually understood.

……….

……….

Hermione was sitting on her bed, staring determinedly at her Muggle Studies homework. Though it should have been ridiculously easy, she simply couldn't focus on her work. Her eyes flicked up to the window without her permission. She immediately forced her brown gaze back to the meaningless fuddle before her.

She was _not_ going to look. She was not going to look, she simply was not going to…her eyes rose to the window again. _Oh drat!_ She vexed, slamming shut her lawnmower diagrams.

Sighing to herself, she rose from her bed and moved over to the window, making sure her robe was tightened over her chest as she did so. She knew, however much she tried to avoid the knowledge that she would never get her work done unless she at least took a peek.

Even as she searched the dark grounds outside, she knew just as well that she would never just take a peek without standing there for at least half an hour. It was getting dark outside, the sun dying pitifully just over the Forbidden Forest, deflating as if punctured on the treetops.

She stood stock-still by the window sill, shivering slightly at an imagined chill, wondering why it was that she seemed to end up here every night against her will. She started, her body straightening as the familiar dark figure darted around below her window on broomstick.

Hermione watched, entranced as the dark, cloak-covered figure flipped around a stone gargoyle and disappeared around the side of a turret.

Signing, she settled down to watch. The mysterious flyer had shown up every night without fail in the last three months of the previous year. Hermione felt a tug of relief to see that with the new year, he hadn't changed his ritual.

Though she had never seen his face, she was fairly certain it was a he; it had to be a he…because she felt a strange, uncharacteristic attraction to him.

Not like the type she had with Harry and Ron, but a different, fascinated one. Harry and Ron were her best friends in the world, but she wasn't attracted to either one of them. Though Harry was undeniably handsome and Ron was rather cute, or so she'd been told.

The figure rounded the side of the castle, flying just above Hermione's window, his cape billowing out behind him. Hermione squinted as he flew by, but still couldn't manage to make out facial features. But how many wizards…how many people could fly like that at Hogwarts? The only wizards she knew of that could fly that well were all on the Gryffindor. Except for Malfoy and Parkinson. Though Parkinson had stopped playing at the end of last year for some reason and to even suggest that Hermione could be attracted to Malfoy was a disgusting implication worthy of at least twenty detentions with Snape, twenty of Hagrid's rock cakes, and twenty bottles of Butterbeer with Filch.

……….

……….

The next morning, Pansy awoke to the dissonant screams of one very hungry Evangel. She sat up, and took a moment to remember where she was. The converted classroom was a new experience waking up in; before Dumbledore had let her sleep in her deserted dormitory.

She glanced around, taking in the sky blue curtains with a certain amount of distain, of course a baby room would have to be in pastels. It was necessary for a child's delicate eyes. It didn't mean Pansy had to like it. She would have preferred a dark shade of green to lilacs, mint greens, and (she shuddered slightly, glancing at the curtains) pinks.

The impatient cries of her child goaded Pansy out of her thoughts. Stretching, Pansy swung her shapely legs over the side of the bed. She grumbled, staring down at her thighs. It was not good to be the thing that caused her to gain some extra pounds and be waking her up early in the morning.

Nevertheless, Evangel continued to shriek demandingly. Pansy grumbled again and stood, stretching her arms up to the ceiling and making her way around the bed to grab a bottle of potion.

She had flat-out refused to breast-feed Evangel. The thought was revolting. Pansy was older and more mature, yes, but she was also still seventeen, and she wanted _no one's_ mouth on her breast. She rubbed her chest, trying to dispel the disturbing image.

Evangel was squirming in her cradle, her chubby little fists squeezed and flailing all over the place. Her face was screwed up in an impatient whine, her beautiful, beautiful eyes tight shut and that rosy little mouth _wide_ open.

Pansy groaned, feeling the familiar dislike for the child building in her. Amazing what a change in her attitude the child's closed eyes caused. Last night she had stayed up, tickling, cooing at, and playing with the tiny thing, taking her quite a while to realize that Weas-Ginny had left.

It hadn't mattered. But now, as Pansy stood staring dumbfounded at the bottle in her hands, her steadily growing frantic gaze flicking from it to the wailing child, she realized that it _did_ matter. She really needed Ginny here right now. How in god's name was she supposed to feed the thing?

She unscrewed the top of the bottle, revealing a skin-like nipple to imitate the mother's. Pansy swallowed nervously as she glanced down at the furiously wriggling baby. She dipped her hand down, pushing the tip of the bottle into Evangel's wide mouth.

The crying infant clumsily pushed away the bottle with her balled fists. Pansy's brow furrowed as she tried again. And again, Evangel pushed the bottle away. Pansy tried twice more, unsuccessfully, nearly in tears herself. The child simply would not take the bottle.

Pansy cried out in frustrated irritation. She threw the bottle down on her bed and flew from the room in a frenzy. She could hear the child's needy cries following her down the hallway, even though she knew very well that the solid door had closed firmly behind her.

She tore down the hallways, which, to her dismay, were filling with people heading down to breakfast. She had forgotten that other people had classes to attend, and breakfast to bolt down. She was nearly tearing her hair out as she shoved students out of her way.

She was so frantic that she ploughed straight into the Boy-Who-Lived. With an aggravated growl she shoved herself out of the arms he'd wrapped around her to keep her from falling and tore back down the hallway without a second glance.

She knew that Evangel was still crying desperately. She knew she shouldn't have left. She knew that the odds of finding her were slim, but she just had to get Ginny. Ginny would know what to do. Why hadn't the thing just taken the bottle!

She pushed her way recklessly to the Great Hall. Suddenly, Draco Malfoy was looming right in front of her. She could just see over his shoulder into the Great Hall…and there was Ginny! She was about to sit down at Gryffindor table.

"Hullo Pansy. What's the rush? Got a date?" Draco leered over her. She looked particularly disheveled, and…was she wearing a nightgown? He looked down. Sure enough, she was wearing a silky green nightgown under a silk black robe. Her feet were bare.

Draco looked up, arching a pale eyebrow. "Couldn't bother to get dressed this morning?" he sneered. Oh, she would pay for dressing him down yesterday. He would have done it earlier, but after Transfiguration, she'd disappeared, not even showing up for lunch. Odd.

Pansy felt tears pushing out from her eyes. She had no time for Draco and his arrogant prat-ness. She could feel the pulling from that room upstairs, where she'd left Evangel crying. "Move Malfoy!" she hissed, trying to push him aside.

He wouldn't budge. "What happened to Draco?" he asked sulkily.

Pansy nearly screamed in frustration, feeling a tear about to fall down her cheek. She was _not_ going to let that bastard see her cry. She stopped trying to shove him aside, and instead brought the heel of her foot down on Draco's foot. Hard.

It would've been better had she been wearing stilettos, but the force alone was enough to make Draco cry out in pain and fall aside. Pansy stepped over the fallen boy, giving him a hard, vindictive kick in the seat for good measure as she ran towards the Gryffindor table.

……….

……….

Ginny had been talking heatedly with her brother when Pansy Parkinson rushed up, still in her nightgown. Ginny swallowed her surprise. She turned to Ron, to make up some banal, simple explanation, the kind she was so good at. Though there really was no reason for Pansy Parkinson to rush up to her breakfast table in her unmentionables.

Ron, however, wasn't staring questioningly at either of them. He was in fact, staring openly at Pansy, his jaw all but dropping as he took his first real look at the new Pansy. Her regularly combed hair was mussed and tangled. Her face was completely devoid of its usual ten stone of make-up, and her clothes (what there were) were rumpled and loose.

Ginny quickly shoved Ron away, as she realized Pansy wanted to speak to her, alone. "What is it?" she whispered as Pansy began shifting from foot to foot, grabbing at her hair hysterically.

"She won't take the bottle! She's just screaming and crying, and she won't take it!" she nearly screamed, tears streaking down her face. Ginny's eyes widened. "You left her alone?" she narrowly avoided screeching. Pansy nodded miserably.

Without another word, Ginny grabbed Pansy's wrist and pulled her off, heading out the Great Hall doors. They had taken about two steps outside when Draco Malfoy popped out of nowhere, massaging his foot.

"Where do you think you two are going?" he sneered nastily. Ginny groaned angrily. "MOVE, Malfoy!" she yelled, trying to tug Pansy around him. He stood firmly in front of them, leering down at them, wallowing in their discomfort.

Ginny's low level of patience snapped. "Damn it, Malfoy!" she hissed. Ginny's left hand was latched onto Pansy's, so she swung her free right hand, catching him on the jaw.

She was a little confused when his head didn't snap to the other side. She had hit him _really _hard. Then she realized that someone else's fist had collided with the other side of his face at the exact same moment. She turned to Pansy, who was shaking her free left hand, which was smarting painfully.

Draco fell back as Ginny knocked him aside with a well-placed kick to the kneecap. Shoving Pansy ahead of her, she kicked him side sharply, following Pansy up the stairs and out of sight faster that it took Draco to think 'ow'.

……….

……….

Ginny burst into the secret room seconds later. Her cheeks were flushed from speeding down the halls like a racehorse. Evangel was screaming distraughtly, her cries raw and penetrating. Ginny immediately ran over to the bed and snatched up the bottle. She clamped it in her mouth as she lifted the still-bawling infant from her cradle.

Pansy staggered into the room as Ginny settled the fussing baby in her arms. She took the bottle from her mouth and tilted it down, letting a drop of the milky potion form at the tip. She then gently touched the tip to Evangel's mouth. The baby pushed the bottle away furiously, but not before the drop had broken away from the tip to trace her tiny mouth.

Evangel closed her mouth and swallowed the tiny bit of potion. She immediately opened her mouth anxiously, ready to scream, despite her raw throat. Ginny didn't push the bottle on her, but instead, touched the very tip of it temptingly to Evangel's lips.

She did this several times before the baby finally grew impatient and pulled the bottle to her mouth and began sucking greedily. Ginny watched satisfactorily as she gulped down the potion. She pulled it away after a second, letting the child swallow properly before pressing the bottle to her lips again.

Pansy watched on in silent awe. Ginny was patient and soft, still stroking the baby's face with the thumb of her supporting hand, all the while rocking her body back and forth in a silent lullaby.

After a few minutes, Evangel's suckling became less frantic, and her fleshy eyelids began to droop. Within minutes, she was asleep, the bottle still in her mouth. Ginny waited for a second before taking the bottle away and placing the baby gently against her shoulder, rubbing her back soothingly.

As Pansy stepped closer timidly, Ginny shifted Evangel over and put a cloth on her shoulder, letting it drape down her back. Pansy felt her cheeks flushing in shame. She didn't know how to feed a bloody baby! And here was supposedly stupid little Gryffindor Ginny Weasley doing it calmly and naturally, as if it was her second-nature.

Pansy sunk down on the bed, humiliated, as Ginny continued to rock the child, all the time never letting her warm brown gaze leave the distraught older girl. Finally Pansy couldn't take the silence anymore. "How do you do it!" she blurted out, feeling the colour rise to her cheeks. Ginny simply smiled understandingly.

"I have six older brothers. My eldest, Bill, has two little boys. Percy has twin girls and a baby boy. Charlie's girlfriend has a baby girl of her own. And you know how poor we Weasleys are…we have to hire each other as babysitters." She said good-naturedly, not a hint of bitterness in her voice.

Pansy stared down at the floor. For some reason, she felt dirty and ashamed. Here was this girl, this poor little girl who she herself had picked on, calling her names and making fun of her clothes, her family, her mother, her financial situation. And this poor little girl was showing more pride in herself than could be found in the whole of Slytherin house. And she wasn't even resentful about it. She had said it factually, without emotion, save for an out-of-place bit of humour.

"About that…" Pansy started wretchedly. Ginny interrupted her. "It's alright. I understand. I never took it to heart like Ron does. Besides," she shrugged her shoulders. "most of it's true, anyway. We Weasleys are poor. I don't think my brothers have the money to hire a nanny or full-time baby-sitter. So I take care of their kids in the summer. We all do. We watch out for each other." She shook her head in amusement. "And we do have more children than we know what to do with. I honestly don't think out home was intended to have ten kids running about it, and that's not including Harry and Hermione, who practically live there, or Bill, Charlie, and Percy, who are basically really big kids." She chuckled to herself, patting Evangel's back.

Pansy was momentarily distracted from her mortification at being so horrible to such a pure person (who didn't deserve it) by Evangel's sudden burp, and half the content's of her breakfast that she spit up onto the cloth over Ginny's shoulder.

Ginny didn't even bat an eyelash. She just went on, rubbing Evangel's back as she talked to Pansy.

"But we really don't have it off that bad." She said thoughtfully. "True, we never have a full bank account. We never have new clothes, or a nice house with nice furniture. We don't have good brooms or our own rooms. But we're happy as we are." She said with such certainty that announced there was no other way to look at the matter.

Pansy shook her head. "How do you do it?" she repeated softly. Ginny cocked her head. "What do you mean?" Pansy shook her head again. "How are you so good? Tell me. How, Ginevra Weasley, are you so perfect?" Ginny lowered her head, her eyes darkening. She was thinking of Tom, of the Chamber of Secrets, of the attacks. "No one's perfect." She said bleakly. "We all have our dirty little secrets." She said slowly, biting her lip.

Pansy didn't seem to notice. "How can you be here? How can you be so nice to me? After all I put you through? After all I've said and done to you. How can you be so forgiving?"

Ginny smiled softly at her. "Because everyone deserves a second chance." She said delicately. Pansy just sank down onto the bed, shaking her head in disbelief. "I'm really not that good." Ginny admitted. "I yell at my parents. I get bad grades sometimes. I do things I shouldn't. I snap at teachers." She flushed as Pansy let out a low chuckle. "No one's perfect. I know that. I never professed perfection. I try not to judge others. It's why I can be here. I don't ever expect to know anyone completely. So therefore, I can't pass judgment. Everyone has a shot of redemption, if they just reach out and take it."

Pansy grinned suddenly, breaking the frown on her face. "You're wrong, you know. There is such thing as perfect." She looked up at the shorter red-head. "It's holding my baby."

Ginny flushed at the praise, ducking her colouring cheeks.


	8. Bangs and Things

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Told you it sucked majorly. But, in a few hundred chapters, maybe it'll get better. Maybe. I want to say to my 36 reviewers so far, I truly appreciate your help and words of wisdom. I only wish I was working on this story as I was uploading so I could use your suggestions, but such is not the case. Still, thank you for reviewing and I hope you won't lose interest before it starts getting good. Now, on to the shit. WARNING: the chapter starts out innocently enough, but beware: explosive hormone-burst somewhere in there. You won't know what hit you; I certainly didn't. So, please put your tray tables up, your seats in their proper, upright position, stick your head between your knees and grab a barf bag.

It's going to be a bumpy ride.

**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine if it belongs to J.K.Rowling.

* * *

**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter Eight: Bangs and Things

* * *

**

"What the bloody hell is going on in this dump!"

Blaise glanced up from his Charms book disinterestedly. Draco stormed into his rooms, not having to look at his bed to know Blaise was reclining there. It seemed that Blaise took more advantage of Draco's Head Boy room than Draco himself did.

Blaise went back to his book for a moment, before closing it disgustedly as Draco began to rant and rave, oblivious to the fact that Blaise was immersed in something else other than 'the centre of the universe' (i.e. Draco)…heaven forbid.

Blaise rolled over and tossed his book in a pile of other books. He turned back to Draco, rolling onto his side, totally relaxed (his head propped on his hand) in contrast to Draco, who seemed incredibly strung up about something. Not that there was ever a time where he wasn't strung up, but there were certain limits to normality, and right now, Draco was exceeding them.

""Who does she think she is?" Draco growled, his upper lip twitching.

Blaise thought back to the scene outside the Great Hall earlier that morning. "Wait, who? Pansy or Weasley?" Draco shot him an angry look, and went back to ranting. "Both of them! Where does Pansy get off ignoring me-" "-and beating the shite out of you-" "-and treating me the way she did?" Draco continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted at all.

Blaise hurriedly turned to "sneeze" as his mouth broke out into a wide smile. Draco was his best friend, but he was also a first-class prat when he wanted to be. Which was most of the time. And though he _was_ his best friend, he had deserved all the blows he'd received. Plus watching that tiny Weaselette nearly flatten someone almost a foot taller had been priceless. And Pansy…now that had been just plain fun. Especially after the apparent crush she'd had on Draco for the past six years.

Draco's silver eyes narrowed at Blaise's most transparent fit of feigned sneezing. "_If_ you don't mind." He said icily as Blaise turned back to him, his smile tucked away neatly between his lips.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Draco, do you ever learn?"

Draco's white-blonde head shot up. "What?" he snapped. Blaise resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. Best friend, yes. Most intelligent, no. "I mean, honestly. When are you going to learn to stop messing around with people? They're only going to take it for so long before they snap… like your jaw." Draco rubbed his own in painful remembrances.

"But still, who do they think they are hitting _me_?" he asked incredulously.

Blaise frowned. "Who do you think you are screwing around with them? Just leave people alone and stop looking for a fight."

Draco scowled. "You would be one to talk about avoiding fights, you fai-"

In less time than gravity should have allowed, he was shoved up against the wall by the broader Slytherin. Draco's eyes bulged as his feet lifted off the ground, remembering why it was he never bothered Blaise…damn, the boy _did_ have muscles!

Blaise's handsome dark face was a mask of anger. His blue-black eyes were piercing and cold as he slowly lowered Draco back to his feet. Never once taking his eyes off him, he dropped one hand, though the other stayed up to point a warning finger at Draco.

"Don't…_ever_." He veritably hissed.

Draco stared at him dispassionately, as was the Malfoy way. Truth was, his heart was pounding painfully in his chest. Blaise was probably the only person who could truly scare him. Even his father had lost the ability to frighten Draco. The usual torture and pain was no longer a threat. Lucius Malfoy was a joke to his son.

Blaise however, was constantly so good-natured, laughing and flippantly not-serious that when he did get honestly incensed, it was terrifying. He so rarely did it that when he finally did break, it was rather unpleasant. Like the deadly explosion of a dormant volcano that goes ka-boom! in the middle of a librarian's convention.

Still, Draco merely glared half-heartedly at him. It was one of the reasons Draco respected Blaise. (Malfoys don't have friends. Friends are for pathetic excuses of filth like Potters and Weasleys.) But they did have people they respected, and Blaise was one of them as far as Draco was concerned.

Blaise dropped his hand and gave Draco a good, hard look. "You know perfectly well that if I choose to fight, I can. I know I'd win, too. Even you're scared of me. But just because I can fight doesn't mean I have to prove it all the time." He turned his back on Draco, which only infuriated him more.

"I'm not scared of you, Zabini." He spat. Blaise's shoulders straightened as he turned to look at Draco. Draco was a little shocked (and mightily confused) to see an almost inordinate amount of pity in them. "Just because you don't look scared doesn't mean you aren't. Looks don't mean anything. Like me; I don't _look_ gay, but…" he shrugged his shoulders, leaving his sentence unfinished. Draco knew the end anyway.

With a flip of his wand, Blaise had his bag on his shoulder and his robe over his arm and was out the door. It was the first time in a very long while that Draco hadn't had to throw, magic, or threaten Blaise out of his room.

……….

……….

"So…Pansy's changed."

Harry finally glanced up from his Quidditch book, arching an eyebrow at Ron over the pages. "You interrupt my reading time to talk about _Parkinson?_ Are you feeling all right?" Harry asked, quickly angling his eyes down to the page, his cheeks heating for some reason.

Ron rolled his eyes and flopped over on his bed, pulling down the too-small pyjama shirt that always rode up. He stared across the beds at Harry.

"I'm serious, Potter." He said mockingly. "She does look different, doesn't she? And that thing yesterday in Potions. I mean, the girl laughed at _Malfoy_ for Merlin's sake. And Snape! You may not like her, but you've got to admit, she is different."

"I guess."

"Arrggghhhh!" Ron growled, rolling back on his side. "You're no help. You never want to talk about girls." Harry tensed for such a brief moment that Ron suspected he imagined it. "Whereas you talk about nothing else." He shot back, burying his head in his Quidditch book again.

And Ron was slightly less sure that he imagined the flush that spread across Harry's cheeks before they disappeared behind the pages. But only slightly.

……….

……….

About six weeks later:

Weeks passed, and with them, certain teachers became more and more…vindictive.

Colin kicked a random wall for no reason other than he was pissed off. Wincing and limping down the hall, he mentally cursed Snape in all the languages he knew. Damn him!

"How does the bastard go about giving me a detention for taking a picture? Bloody bastard!" He hissed to himself for the thirty-second time that evening. True, his photographic moment had been at a rather embarrassing time for the slimy Potions master. No one wanted to have a reminder of adding that one wrong ingredient and blowing up their cauldron in their face.

Nevertheless, Snape had miscalculated his elements and Colin's camera had been luckily on hand…and just because the slimy git wasn't photogenic, Colin had to suffer detention with him. He cursed for the thirty-third time that evening, shuddering at the thought and at the sudden drop in temperature as he entered Snape's dungeons.

Glancing around, he noted that Snape wasn't there yet. Setting down his things, he pulled off his robes. He glanced around once more before undoing his button-down. He pulled off his shirt quickly and pulled on a lighter cotton tee, not even bothering to admire his small but tight muscles. He rapidly re-did the buttons of his uniform shirt, leaving the top one open and tossing his tie into his bag haphazardly.

He knew Snape wouldn't like it, but he didn't really care. Rolling his rather baggy sleeves up to the elbow, he smoothed out his pants. He may not have the nicest clothes, since most of his monthly allowance went into photography supplies, but what he did have was nicely fitted and always clean and ironed.

Just as he was playing about with his ever-wavy blonde hair, he heard the door bang open. He jumped and turned in his seat in time to see a black tornado whirl by, muttering something unintelligible.

His first thought was that Snape was in another of his foul moods (as if he ever wasn't in one), but lowering her hood, he realized it was Professor Odekerk. Her face was drawn and angry, her fine features set in strong discontent. She slammed her bag down at Snape's desk, almost purposefully knocking off several stacks of papers.

She finally glanced up as Colin stood. Almost immediately, the harsh lines that marred her face subsided, and she nearly smiled at him. She seemed to catch herself in time to prevent her lips from smiling, but she could do nothing to keep her eyes from doing so.

"Ah, hello Mr. Creevey." She said practically warmly. "I thought I'd have to look after a Slytherin. I didn't realize it was you I had to watch for detention when Professor Snape asked me to cover for him…otherwise I probably wouldn't have called him half the things I did." As Colin searched for something to say to this rather odd statement, she let her lips quirk up in a grin.

"On the other hand, I probably would have anyway."

Colin allowed himself a laugh at this. It seemed he could never laugh anymore, so when opportunity knocked at the door of humour, he raced down the hallway of eagerness to open it.

Professor Odekerk strode over to the desk Colin was hovering at. He gawked at her in surprise. He was taller than she was! Of course, Colin was the tallest boy in Gryffindor next to Ron Weasley, and he was only taller than Odekerk by an inch or two, but he was taller! And she had seemed so tall and imposing when he first met her…

She caught his surprised gaze and made a blushing motion, though Colin doubted very much if she was the type who could actually turn red. She lifted the hem of her robes up conspiratorially and showed him her flat shoes.

"I usually wear tall boots, but after a day on your feet those things start to hurt." She explained. Colin nodded once, since he wasn't sure what to say to this unexpected teacher. "Uh, Professor Odekerk-"

"-Velixandre." She corrected automatically, and stopped, her jaw dropping as she turned to stare at Colin questioningly, as if he had somehow made her give him her first name. Colin went a pretty shade of pink.

"Uh, right…um…I think I'll stick with Professor Odekerk…" Colin said edgily. Professor Odekerk was still eying him warily, as if trying to detect some sort of…bafflement spell that would make her blurt out weird things like that to her students.

"Erm, Professor Odekerk…what is it exactly that I'm supposed to do?" He asked tentatively. Odekerk seemed to come back to reality. "Professor Snape wishes you to clean every desk with soap and water…no magic, and sweep and mop the floors…no magic, and to clean out the cauldrons…" as she paused yet again, Colin interrupted her.

"Wait, wait, no don't tell me…no magic." He concluded sarcastically, rolling up his sleeves as he rolled his eyes. It was fortunate, because Odekerk had just managed to fail to keep down the smile she'd been fighting with. As Colin finished rolling up his sleeves, she forced the corners of her lips down into a straight line.

"Correct. I believe you know where the supplies are kept, so commence your work." She said authoritatively and whirled around to sit down at Snape's desk. Colin nodded and went to work. He decided to do the desks first, so he went into Snape's cupboards under the sinks and pulled out a bucket and sponge. Filling the bucket with soapy water, he lugged it over to the first desk in the front row and began to scrub.

A couple of hours and many squishy blue bubbles later, Colin threw down his sponge and rocked back on his heels. Doing so, he glanced around the dungeon. The tables were spotless, gleaming nastily at him with some sick sense of humour that shouldn't be allowed to furniture. The cauldrons were shining austerely up at him from their neat stacks in the corner, and Colin stood to shove the cauldron he'd just finished scrubbing over to its mates.

Wiping his face with a damp rag, he stood. Fanning his slightly flushed cheeks with his hand, he glanced over at Snape's desk for what felt like the millionth time. Professor Odekerk was still bent over a stack of papers, elegant eagle quill in her hand scratching hastily over the papers.

Colin immediately flipped his gaze away in humiliation as his cheeks coloured again, though not from the stuffiness his shirt was presenting. He couldn't stop looking at the striking woman, no matter how many times he tried; it was just strange for him to be so taken with her. She was his _teacher_. Yet still, he kept sneaking glances at her.

Sighing to himself, he finally decided he was far too hot, and he still needed to sweep and mop the floors. Going over to his bag, he began to unbutton his school uniform shirt, which had grown heavier by the minute. Undoing the last button, he pulled it off and flung it into his bag carelessly. He was left in his sleeveless white cotton tee, which already was making him feel more weightless. The stuffy humidity he'd felt in his uniform wore off as he moved about, grabbing a broom and mop from the closet and setting to work again.

Little did he know he wasn't the only one doing a bit of staring…

For the eighteenth time that night (she'd been keeping tally on Snape's desktop in uncleanable ink, just to piss him off), Velixandre Odekerk shook her head, forcing her eyes away from the handsome boy who was cleaning the room. Stupid good-looking kids…they just had to look so delicious and tempting and had to be taking their shirts of slowly and sexi-

Realizing what she was doing, she ducked her head down again. Granted, it wasn't all the kids in the school who were making her so horribly distracted and uncharacteristically hormonal…just one. This one, as it happened.

She didn't know what it was, but whatever it was, it had to stop. This was only the second day back and already she had become attracted to someone. She had sworn it would never happen again…not after she'd lost her last job due to fatalistic attraction to that damned idiot Payton Odekerk. She'd _married_ the imbecile. Thank the gods for faulty cauldrons…and cheap funerals. She hadn't even bothered to attend her late husband's memorial service. She was too busy searching for a new job and a new life. Gods, she had bad taste in men…

And where better to go than to Hogwarts, where she could accomplish many things…getting away from her former life…teaching, as was in her family's blood…going somewhere with absolutely no good-looking men…pissing the shit out of Severus..._that_ never got old…

Of course, how was she to know that she'd be attracted to a bloody seventeen-year-old? Not that she was some old hag…she was only twenty-four. But still…seventeen? But there was just something about him…Colin Creevey…that was so unimaginably irresistible.

He was tall and lean and undeniably handsome, in a natural, classic way. He was the almost complete opposite of her… lightly tanned to her parchment-pale skin, light blue eyes to her striking brown-black ones, light blonde hair to her long, raven-black tresses. But he was positively delicious. She couldn't stop looking at his chest and hair and wishing she could run hands over both…

Smacking herself lightly on the forehead, she mentally cursed herself. Thinking such thoughts was not appropriate for a teacher…completely unprofessional. Still, her eyes flicked back to him. This time, his eyes met hers.

And neither could tear away. Colin didn't break the gaze as his mop clattered to the floor, and Odekerk didn't even blink as her quill dropped from her loose grip. Gulping, Colin allowed his eyes to rake over her sinfully perfect body and face. _Stop it, stop it Colin. She's a teacher…she's your teacher…she's older…out of reach…she's not…_ Coherency stopped as her eyes fell to his lips, almost achingly.

It took him nearly tripping over the mop to realize he was moving slowly forward. Odekerk didn't (or couldn't) move, instead just watching the boy come closer and closer, looking more and more like a man than a boy with every step.

She tried to swallow as her mouth went suddenly dry. She could feel her lips losing their moisture, and couldn't help wishing he would help her wet them…with his lips…

He stopped as the fronts of his thighs hit the front of Snape's desk. He leaned down, his palms pressing flat against the top of Snape's desk, never taking his eyes off hers. Her mouth fell open slightly, the very edge of her tongue visible between her lips, anxiously wetting them.

Colin's gaze flickered back up to her eyes. They were wide and nervous, but urgent and desperate with desire as well. He leaned down so incredibly slowly she thought she would tear her hair out.

He was millimetres away from her lips when she suddenly pushed her head forward. Their lips met with a soft crash that surprised the both of them with its intensity. Colin had barely tasted her mouth when her hands were up, pulling him closer…or perhaps she was pushing herself closer. Either way, they were both straining against the desk between them, kissing as if the world was coming to an end.

Thought after thought crashed over Colin as his professor ran hands through his hair, nipping and kissing his lips determinedly, wildly. He really…no…_they_ really shouldn't be doing this. Yet he just couldn't take his lips off her. He felt his hands coming up behind her back, running over the curves under her robes.

And when her hands went to the hem of his shirt, tugging insistently, his world kindly went ka-poof and he blanked out in blissful semi-conscious primitiveness. Gods, sex was good…


	9. Confusion and Popup Malfoys

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **It's two in the morning on a Monday school night and I have an AP Euro test tomorrow...this is all stemming from the fact that I have the suspicion that I'm suffering from a number of hypochondrial ailments, including chronic insomnia. Yippee. So anyway, here's the next chapter, for those of you interested. Hoohah. So, things start to pick up a bit between people and things get mighty confusing. Deal with it. Explanations come complementary with the story and your free choice of just why you hate the author. More Draco-Ginny action, though they won't pick up for a while since I'm trying to keep them in character, ignoring the fact that they're completely out of character already and that God forbid, were J.K.Rowling dead, she would be turning in her grave. So here. It's crap, but here. Things should get better. Soon. Hopefully.

**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine if it belongs to J. K. Rowling

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**The Hogwarts Renaissance **

**Chapter Nine: Confusion and Pop-up Malfoys**

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Harry stared morosely out over the lake as the sun sank lower and lower over the Forbidden Forest. He'd been sitting out there for some time. Alone. Being without Ron or Hermione or both was disturbing and yet liberating. He let out a breath leisurely to try and release the tension in his chest.

This was something he needed to think about by himself. Something he needed solitude to decipher. Some crude remark he'd heard Malfoy saying to his friend Zabini (who else would verbally abuse their friends?) had set Harry off on a train of thought he most absolutely did not want to follow, mostly as it pertained to self-evaluation.

How could there be anything else wrong with him? How could he possibly be any more fucked up than he already was with Voldemort as a permanent fixture in his life? He'd never had time to be interested in girls, and most of the time he felt the cosy little couples around school were nauseating. But lately…it was like puberty hit way too late and with full force for all the time it had missed.

Suddenly he was seeing girls as more than just shadows. First with Ginny and several nights tossing and turning over that. And then bloody Slytherin Pansy Parkinson for the love of Godric! He couldn't stop thinking about her…when she'd run into him in the hall…and the way his arms just slid instinctively around her waist…how perfectly she'd fit there…

And then Ginny again, seeing her deck Malfoy with that sexy air of determination she now suddenly seemed to have. He had never had such bad nights sleep…

Harry's head sunk down. What on earth was wrong with him? The Dark Lord was still a threat to his life and the life of his friends and all he could think of was girls. Girls he'd never have even considered before. And neither of them had any reciprocating feelings for him, either. He couldn't sleep, he was doing even worse than usual in his classes…

Harry made a choking noise in the back of his throat and let his head fall into his hands. For the first time in ages, thinking of something other than his parents or Sirius was making him want to just sit down and let loose.

"Realization hurts, doesn't it?"

Harry spun, nearly falling off the rock he was perched on at the sudden, friendly yet guarded voice behind him.

……….

……….

Hermione sighed again as she watched Ron mouth off with Ginny for rushing off so slackly with Pansy that morning weeks ago. Apparently, Ron had seen the two of them together again and wanted to know exactly what she thought she was doing associating with Pansy Parkinson.

_No mention yet of Ron's rather dazed, hungry look after having seen the older Slytherin girl… _

"Well, you didn't seem to mind her being there at the time…couldn't keep your bloody eyes off her, could you?"

_Well, all things must come to an end…_

Including the thin layering of peace that separated the two siblings. "DID NOT!" Ron bellowed, turning an alarming shade of red. Hermione sighed (yet again) and ducked under the pillows on the couch for refuge. Unfortunately, someone else had had the same idea, and a loud thunk accompanied the ringing pain in Hermione's head.

With twin yelps that were drowned out by the bickering brother and sister nearby, two girls pulled their heads up, hands going immediately to the offending bumps. Hermione looked up into brilliant green eyes. Unlike Harry's, they were soft green, and almost never still. Bits of grey and blue flecked in occasionally, seemingly with every slight movement the girl they were attached to made.

Hart grinned sheepishly at Hermione, rubbing her red head thoughtfully. "You know, I think those two should be labeled natural disasters when they get together." Hermione laughed, temporarily forgetting about Ron and his pig-headed Ron-ness.

"Having a Weasley as a best friend _is_ a bit of a liability, isn't it?" she murmured, eliciting a few choice giggles from the other girl.

Hart leaned back on the couch, looking at the two siblings. "Ginny and I were supposed to go down to the library…but it seems she'd a tad preoccupied." She turned suddenly to Hermione, a grin crackling in those clairvoyant eyes. "D'you think they'd notice if we slipped out to the Quidditch pitch?" she asked, waving a hand between her and Hermione to indicate who she meant by 'we'.

Hermione bit her lip, half in thought, half in wonder at the boldness of the other seemingly quiet girl's request. "Do you go out there much?" she asked, stalling for time. Hart nodded proudly. "Every single night for the last three months of last year. Got to get in shape." Hermione felt her face redden as she realized she had found her mystery flier. "Yeah, I think I may have seen you out there. Well, Ron wanted me to help him with his Potions essay…" she trailed off as Ron ducked from the vase that had just left Ginny's hand. She stifled a groan, though next to her, Hart didn't bother.

"Great, they've progressed to hurling breakables." She muttered sarcastically, almost coolly tilting her head away from a badly-aimed projectile that flew over her shoulder, bare inches from her ear. Hermione let out an aggravated sigh. "They'll be at it all night now…" she trailed off, making up her mind quickly.

Hart cocked an eyebrow at her. "Well?" she asked, smirking like a Slytherin. Hermione grinned, a little uncertain as to why a girl she'd not shared more than a few words with so far would want to go flying with her. But it was nice; she almost felt interesting. That was something she hadn't felt in a long time.

"Wait 'til I get my cloak?"

……….

……….

Ginny really didn't have time for this.

She had had a hectic few weeks, starting with Pansy's frantic burst into the Great Hall in her nighties. It had spiraled down from there. She'd had to take care of both mother and daughter, feeding the younger Parkinson and teaching the older one how to do the job of feeding the younger one, making Ginny late for many classes, where she was struggling with the work she had to do to make up for the time she lost with Evangel.

And this morning Pansy had sought her out again, in a frantic state because Evangel was vomiting her food up. Ginny had rushed off from breakfast again to take care of the matter. It had taken quite a while.

She'd had to skip breakfast and was starving at lunch, though barely able to eat as Ron bugged her incessantly. She'd gone in the afternoon to take care of Evangel, but found that she had left her History of Magic book in her room in Gryffindor Tower. She had a test to study for. Finding Pansy and asking her to watch after Evangel for a few minutes while she dashed up to get her book made her feel guilty for monopolizing Pansy's free time from the child, which she was still a little uneasy about.

And then Ron had started pestering her in the common room, when she was already late because she couldn't find her book. Which may or may not have been why she lost her temper and threw her book at his head.

The fight that ensued had been vicious and Ginny had been in a white-hot rage. No one and nothing was safe, and after a few moments Ron was cowering behind Neville. Retrieving her book from Dean's lap, Ginny exited the common room in a deadly mood.

This was definitely why Draco Malfoy's sudden appearance in the hall ahead of her on her way down to the Parkinson's rooms was a meeting that almost certainly was destined to include bloodshed and quite possibly loss of limb or other important anatomy bits.

Ginny nearly screamed as Malfoy popped up from behind a witch statue, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Why hello Weasley." He said, calmly malicious. Ginny bit down hard on her lip to keep from spitting at him and losing house points. Why did the stupid git have to be the goddamn Head Boy?

"Hello Malfoy." She said carefully, making sure not to sound too offensive or too cocky. His eyes glinted spitefully. "What are you doing out at this time of night, Weasley?" he asked, almost gleefully.

Ginny groaned. She'd forgotten to grab the year-round pass Dumbledore had made for her and Pansy. It was sitting in her room in her trunk. "Just going to get something I left in my last class." She said, lying easily from the years of growing up with Fred and George.

He smirked at her, running eyes up and down her body in a manner she most definitely did not appreciate. "You do realize you're out of bounds after hours?" his eyes were doing that strange glinty-ha-ha-I-get-to-make-your-life-hell thing. She decided she didn't like that.

"Yes Malfoy. I wasn't going to be long; just needed to grab something." She said, praying desperately, though she knew in vain, to every god or goddess she'd ever made offerings to that he wouldn't hold her up any longer than necessary.

"Too bad; it's going to cost you." Ginny felt her heart plummeting. "Fine. Just take points off and let me go on my way, please?" she let a hint of desperation creep into her voice, coating compliance over her tone. Malfoys seemed the domineering type.

Malfoy sneered nastily at her. "As if I'd ever do Weasley filth a favor." He spat nastily. "You know, if you weren't so poor, you might be able to bribe your way out of this…however, I'm not interested in half-a-Knut bribery." The condescension was heavy as he leered at her.

"Then again, there are other possibilities. His silky grey eyes roamed her body and Ginny fought the insatiable urge to slap him…vomit…and cover herself up…all the while kicking him…with steel-toed shoes…with spikes…

She didn't like the way his eyes lingered over her chest and rear. Flaming, embarrassed heat rose to her cheeks as she settled for crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm going to pretend I have no idea what you're insinuating…because there is no possible way a Malfoy would ever want to contaminate themselves with 'Weasley filth', right?"

No matter how hateful her words may have been, her voice was low and calm, almost soothing save for the edge of spite it was laced with. For all the subtlety her closest in age brother lacked (he possessed all the tact of a ton of bricks), Ginny seemed to have inherited those particular sets of chromosomes in abundance.

Something flickered in Malfoy's eyes and Ginny barely had time to become frightened when he began moving closer, a stealthy swagger to his walk. "Come, come now Weasley." He said, in a deceptively reassuring voice. "You can't honestly say you're not attracted to me…" he loomed over her, giving her what she assumed he thought was a sexily hungry stare.

As his hand went up to her breasts, Ginny moved with the sharpened speed built from hours of practicing fighting drills with Charlie. Before Draco knew what was happening, he was on his back, his arse and head pounding with the reverberating slam of said parts on the stone floor.

Ginny Weasley was crouched over him, one knee to his chest, one arm and the other knee pinning down his arms, as her free hand held her wand to his throat. She stared down at him calmly, none of the predictable rage in her eyes he'd encountered countless times with the Weasley boy. Instead there was a tad bit of annoyance with a great deal of impatience. "Head Boy or not, I suggest you keep your fat mouth shut, Malfoy. And I _suggest_ that you not try to take too many points from Gryffindor. If you do, I'm sure Dumbledore or Snape would love to know all about you trying to 'feel up' a girl from a younger year." She whispered menacingly.

For once Draco said nothing, perhaps taking her advice and keeping his fat mouth shut. Before he could say anything or react, the weight from his chest was gone, along with the red-headed serene-fury walking contradiction that it had belonged to, leaving him completely stunned and glued to the spot. For a while.

……….

……….

Not minutes later Ginny burst into Pansy's private rooms, panting like a rhinoceros winded after running a mile…or Snape in a five-step marathon…

Pansy looked up from her Defense Against the Dark Arts book, peering at Ginny curiously over her glasses…something new for Ginny, who'd never seen the girl wear them.

"Have fun scampering about the castle in your free time?" she asked, somewhat sarcastically; she hadn't been overly thrilled with the prospect of having to watch over Evangel for longer than she had to, though she was coping rather well, Ginny thought.

Ginny gasped in a huge breath as she collapsed onto the bed, tossing her History of Magic book carelessly into the corner. "Loads." She responded wearily, tearing off her tie and unbuttoning half the buttons on her blouse, the sky blue undershirt she was wearing underneath peeking through. Pansy arched an eyebrow over the thin rim of her glasses. "I detect a sense of distress in your voice. Problems?"

Ginny half-laughed, kicking off her shoes and socks. "If only." She turned on her side, propping her head on her hand as she regarded Pansy, at the same time taking her hair down from its pin. "Brothers…people…Malfoys…" Pansy's eyes hardened. "Ah, Malfoys. I'm assuming you mean the devil spawn, and not the devil himself? What did the little shit do this time?" she asked, almost regrettably. This new hatred, or at least intense dislike for Malfoy was another thing Ginny would have to get used to.

"Just being a prat and stopping me in the halls. How the bloody git ever got made Head Boy is beyond me. His precious father probably bought him the position." Pansy nodded thoughtfully, though not spitefully. "Probably." She agreed. Ginny looked up, a little astonished. Okay, so it had gone around the Gryffindor common room; the rumour that Draco Malfoy's father had bought him his current position at Hogwarts, but that's all it was; a rumour. Ginny shook her head slowly. "Only Malfoy." She said tiredly, her eyes closing, heavy with sleep.

The sound of the door slamming shut startled them both, the noise dragging Ginny's eyelids open.

"Only I what?"


	10. A Malfoy that Bleeds

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Indeed, I am back. I am Iron Woman! Sorry, still on Black Sabbath buzz. Or is that Red Bull buzz? Oh, wow, that's fun to say. Red Bull Buzz. What? No one else talks to themselves as they write? Fine, I'm insane, so what? Here's the next chapter...hope you ejoy. Indeed, ejoy. Indeed. I don't know why, but suddenly that is the most fascinating word in the English language. Indeed, it is. Hahahaha.

Indeed.

**DISCLAIMER: **Indeed, if it does not belong to J. K. Rowling, it is indeed mine. Indeed.

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**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter 10: A Malfoy that Bleeds is Good Fun Indeed**

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Colin fell back on the stone floor for the fifth time that night…that he could remember. Next to him, Odekerk was breathing somewhat heavily, smoothing sweat-laced strands of long, long hair from her flushed face.

"Dear gods." She muttered somewhat achingly. Colin exhaled sharply as if to accentuate her statement. The point was, 'dear gods' didn't even come close to describing the past couple of hours.

As they lay there, the chill from the stones of the dungeon seeping into their heated bodies and slowly cooling them, Colin turned to face the amazing woman beside him. Amazing…definitely amazing. Not that he was an expert in such matters (as wizards like Malfoy were), but the past few hours had easily been the most astounding and glorious of his life.

Odekerk rolled over on her bare side, staring up at Colin affectionately; something she hadn't felt in a long time. "That was…" she searched for the words, but found none….for a good reason; there were no words in any language to even begin to describe the incredible experience the two unlikely lovers had just shared…though 'fucking mind-blowing' would have been a good start.

But Colin understood. "I know." He said softly, leaning down to press his lips to the unbelievably soft skin of her neck. Odekerk laughed lowly and pushed him gently away. "Again? What, are you trying to go for twelve?" she asked. Colin laughed in response, pulling her to him and wrapping his arms around the body he was now so familiar with. "I think we hit twelve about three goes back." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Care to make it an even twenty?"

Laughing as she shoved him away, he stood, stretching sore but satiated muscles. As he went bout gathering his clothes, he felt acutely aware of her eyes still on him. Pulling on his boxers (which were in none other than Neville Longbottom's cauldron), he turned to her, only to find her watching him with a look of content, slight amazement and amusement on her face. "What?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Odekerk laughed. "Nothing, but doesn't it scare you that we…you know…on Snape's desk?" she cocked her head to the side, coal-black hair falling coquettishly over one eye. Colin smirked and slipped out of the shirt he'd just put on.

He strode purposefully over to her, aware of her eyes drinking in his every movement hungrily and purposefully exaggerating every one. "In all honesty…?" he asked, settling down on the cool stone beside her and leaning in to trail kisses along her jaw. She closed her eyes and bit down hard on her lower lip as her cheeks flushed. Colin reached her chin and lifted his lips almost up to hers, lingering millimeters away. "…you could make a bloke randy anywhere."

Her lips met his fiercely, and before either knew it, they had somehow migrated back to Snape's desk and Colin was once again without his boxers.

…………

……….

…………

"Realization hurts, doesn't it?"

Harry gasped in air, turning to find Blaise Zabini standing in the most negligent pose behind him, relaxed, yet somehow _still_ superior in posture. The dark Slytherin smirked and tossed his head casually, flipping hair away from his eyes. Harry could only manage a half-hearted glare through watery eyes.

"Bugger off, Zabini." He growled, turning his face away to gain some recovery time; tears had only barely stopped running down his face. Harry had no idea what the hell Blaise was talking about, but he was a Slytherin, so it couldn't be good.

Blaise just slunk negligibly around in front of Harry, crouching down to stare him in the eyes. Harry glared; the damage was done…no use avoiding the man now. "State your purpose or be off, Zabini." Harry said shortly.

Blaise was smirking satisfactorily. "When did you find out?" he asked. Harry actually looked up, baffled. "Find what out?" he asked, too startled to be hostile. Blaise merely grinned knowingly. "You didn't fancy girls when all the other boys did, Potter." He said.

Harry's mind was drawing a complete blank. He briefly wondered just how well Blaise did in Madame Trelawney's class before Blaise leaned in, his face inches from his own. "Think about it Potter…you know the truth, don't you? You've figured it out…you're changed. You don't have to hide anything from me."

And with that, he sauntered off, in the way only Slytherins can.

…………

……….

…………

"Hermione, why don't you come one up?"

Hermione pulled her eyes away from the Charms book in front of her as Hart called down to her once again. Hermione sighed. "I don't fly, Hart. That's what Harry and Ron and Ginny and just about everyone else in the wizarding world is for."

Hart just smirked, flying in lazy circles. "I see. Scared, then?"

Hermione scowled. "I most certainly am not."

Hart smiled. "Yes you are. There's something you're not a genius about and it scares you. It's alright, though. You don't have to know everything."

Hermione though that statement a bit rude, but she ignored it. "I'll have you know that I've read every book on Quidditch that Hogwarts has to offer." She said knowingly. Hart gave her an 'oh really' look. Hermione nodded emphatically. "Yes I have…just last year. It was either learn all I could about Quidditch or have Ron and Harry beat me with their brooms for talking about Wonky-Faints."

Hart nearly fell off her broom laughing. "You didn't!" she gasped, holding tightly to her broom. Flying down to the ground so she wouldn't kill herself, Hart collapsed into laughter. Hermione felt her cheeks growing warm as she tried to ignore it.

Hart was silent for a while before breaking out in giggles again. "Wonky-Faint." She muttered to herself in amusement.

…………

……….

…………

"Bloody damn hell buggering sodding fuck!" Ginny burst out as Draco Malfoy stepped further into the room. Pansy immediately leapt up and stealthily made her way over to the bed. Luckily, from where he was standing he couldn't see the cradle, where Evangel was asleep. But five more steps…

Ginny headed him off. "Please Malfoy…please…we're allowed to be here; you can ask Dumbledore. Please, just go." she pleaded with him, desperation falling heavily on her words purely by strategy. There was one thing she knew about Malfoy for certain and that was that he liked to dominate. And right now she needed his cooperation or else he was going to do a lot of damage in a way only a snotty little bastard of a Malfoy could. He stopped in front of her and cast a glance over at Pansy, glaring at him over her glasses, still a threatening figure despite the fact she was wearing pajamas and a robe.

He turned his glance back over to Ginny, eyes roving once more over her body. Anger surged up her throat, but she swallowed it and schooled her face into a submissive mask. "Please, Malfoy." She wanted to throw up and probably would sooner or later. When the time came, she would aim for Malfoy. She knew what it could mean for Pansy if Malfoy found out about the baby; it would be all over the school in a matter of hours. Malfoy would probably try to get Pansy kicked out of the school. With the little fucker's influence, he'd probably succeed, too. Pansy didn't deserve that; as odd as it was, Ginny considered Pansy a friend, and there was no chance in hell she would let Draco Bloody Malfoy hurt her again.

Malfoy's lips curved up in a smirk as he looked back and forth, from Pansy in her pajamas, to Ginny in her rumpled and half-undone clothes. "Well, well, well. What have we here? Two lovely young ladies engaging in inappropriate behavior out-of-bounds after hours. I'd say that's good for at least a month of detentions and fifty points from each house."

Sneering, he stepped closer, only moments away from discovering Evangel. Pansy's eyes widened in genuine fear for her child. Ginny, clutching at straws, grabbed Malfoy's arm. "Wait!" she gasped. "Please…please. Don't…just don't…I'll do anything, just please go away." She begged, already planning just how Pansy would repay her for this and just how she could obliterate Malfoy later.

Malfoy's eyes glinted. "Anything?" he asked suggestively, glancing her over once more. Pansy made a noise of protestation behind her. Ginny ignored it, taking a deep, steadying breath as the annoyance surged again. "What did you have in mind?" she asked hesitantly. Truthfully, she really didn't want to know…Malfoys had dirty, dirty minds.

"Well, many thoughts of things I'd like to do to you have passed through my mind." Ginny lowered her head; she knew her eyes would be rolling. Apparently Malfoys were melodramatic as well as being utter pricks ruling supreme in the utter prick universe. "Please…just go." she whispered again, praying he wouldn't see the snicker that was working on her face, hidden behind her stony façade. Honestly, this was no time to start laughing. Malfoy seemed to be evaluating the situation. Finally, he nodded.

"Fine. We have a deal. I won't say anything, if…" he broke off, making Ginny lean in expectantly. "If…" she prompted, trying not to sound snappish. He smirked and the movement sent shivers down her spine and not the good 'oh, yes touch me there' kind. "If you come with me." He ended vaguely. Ginny breathed out a sigh of relief. No specifics, no deal. She'd go with him, conk him on the head, and be gone. Or at least she hoped it would be so easy. There was always that pesky issue of him behind a full head taller than her and way stronger. She glanced back at Pansy, who was shaking her head violently, mouthing 'no' to her. Ginny turned back to Malfoy, a scowl on her face.

"Fine."

…………

……….

…………

"Will you hurry it up?"

Ginny trudged along a little faster, as he asked. No one wanted to piss Draco Malfoy off, and she was lucky enough he'd let the issue with Pansy go so quickly. If she was really, really lucky, she could get off without sacrificing anything to Malfoy except a fist to the face.

"Hey Malfoy?"

He made a grunting noise she assumed could be interpreted as 'what?'.

"What do you want?"

That caught his attention. His eyes glinted cold as he stopped and turned to face her. "What do I want?" He asked, voice clipping his words sharply. Ginny nodded. "What could you possibly want from a Weasley?" She asked.

That horribly malicious and avaricious look went into his eyes. "I should think that would be pretty obvious." He smirked at her apparent distaste. "But you've got all those girls in Slytherin…" she cocked her head to the side. "And Ravenclaw…" he cut her off before she went any farther.

"You know why I want you?" he advanced on her, and she backed up warily, her mind already buzzing with escape routes if he tried anything. Where were Fred and George's Beater sticks when you needed them? "Why?" she asked, determinedly, stalling for time as her mind was out of smart ideas, having used up that one to actually go along with Malfoy. Her back hit the wall and she stopped moving back, instead putting up a hand to stop him.

He leaned in close, his face inches from hers. "I want you because…" he paused and on habit she leaned in to hear what else he was going to say. "…because you hate me. And you hate everything to do with me. And it would kill your brother." He smirked again, and in a sudden movement, pressed her body to the wall.

Ginny's eyes widened and she turned her head away as he leaned in to kiss her. She tried lifting her hands to carry out the 'conk him on the head' plan, only to find they were pinned to her sides and she couldn't wrench them from his surprisingly strong grasp. His lips hit the skin of the junction of her jaw and ear. She shuddered in repulsion at his touch. "Stop it!" she hissed, trying to push him away. She was putting up a good fight, but it was just inevitable that he would win…he was stronger than she was and he had the advantage she'd been hoping for. Although she could definitely get in a few good bruises and if she was lucky, a knee to the goods.

"Why?" he asked, running his lips up her neck. She wriggled away. "Get off me!"

Draco pressed his hips against hers and flattened her chest, knocking the air out of her. "I plan to be more on you than just this." He warned, leaning in once more for the kill. A booming voice stopped him.

"DRACO!"

…………

……….

…………

Blaise sighed heavily for the fifth time in so many minutes.

He'd gone. There'd been no sense in staying, not after he'd made his first move. Of course he'd gone…like there was anything else he could have done. Blaise congratulated himself for his restraint in not pushing it too fast. The situation needed time, and if Blaise kept his head and played his cards right, could prove to be a lifetime masterpiece.

It must have been near on midnight (though the gods knew his sense of timing was fucked up) when he was broken out of his reverie by a frantic voice.

"Blaise! Blaise!"

Blaise sat up, looking around; his newly opened eyes adjusting to the darkness. He knew that voice…but where was it coming from? And what the bloody hell did she want from him?

"BLAISE FUCKING ZABINI! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?"

Damn, Parkinson had a set of lungs.

He stood, squinting to make out the dark form that was scuttling frantically around in the darkness, hissing and cursing at unseen things.

"Pansy?" he called, stumbling towards her figure. The form froze where it was bent over a bush, parting branches in search for him, undoubtedly. "Blaise?" she hissed, straightening. "No, it the other Blaise Fucking Zabini. And if you ever have children, I suggest you let someone else pick out their middle names." He said sarcastically, not noticing the way she froze again at the mention of children.

Her immobile status didn't remain as such for long. In seconds flat, she'd practically tackled him, fisting her hands in his robes, and he was certain she would have hauled him up if she hadn't been so short.

"You have to do something, NOW!" she said frantically. Blaise cocked his head. "What the bloody hell are you on about?" she gave him a little shove. "Malfoy! Draco Sodding Malfoy! He's gone off with her and I swear to Salazar, if he does anything to her because you're standing here like a daft prick, I will personally torture you both, scoop out your internals and have you feed it to each other, do I make myself perfectly clear!"

With that she whirled and began to haul him along behind her, back up to the castle. It wouldn't have been possible for her to do unless Blaise hadn't been compliantly walking along after her. Then again, he had no other choice; he wasn't entirely sure she wouldn't make good on her threat, whatever the hell she was talking about.

"Listen, Pansy…" he started as she pulled him into the hallway. "…what on earth is going on?" Pansy stopped long enough to give him her full stare. It was something Slytherins had a knack of doing; reading each other's eyes like a book. Blaise saw fury there, most dominantly, floating around like razor-sharp chips of steel. But there was fear, there was plenty of fear; shaking and shifting around, trying to evade him. There was affection for some unknown source; something Blaise had never seen in Pansy's eyes in the seven plus years he'd known her. There was a new sense of being in her, blossoming forth through the haze of her older, more clouded self. It was enough to make him nod and continue on after her.

He waited for her to speak; he knew if she wanted to, she'd do it on her own terms in her own time. If she didn't want to, nothing would change her mind.

"If you'd told me, years ago, that I'd get this worked up over a Weasley, I'd tell you that you were insane." She spoke suddenly, her voice softer and more controlled than it had been outside; yet fear and urgency spoke untold volumes in their hinted presence in her tone.

"She's become…almost like a mother and a sister and a best friend and a guardian angel to me." Blaise's head snapped up at the awe-like wonder so gentle in her eyes and voice. He'd never thought a Slytherin capable of something like that.

They rounded another corner, and Blaise recognized it as they went past the infirmary. Blaise didn't have to ask who Pansy was talking about; there was only one female Weasley, thank the gods. The one they had was more than enough to handle. "He came…and I just couldn't let him see…" she paused, biting her lip. "…I had to get him out of there…Ginny was there and she…she told him she'd do anything if he'd just go…" she trailed off, her eyes sharpening as they passed the portrait of Sir Godfred Milington of Cadaway, who was pacing around in his picture.

He looked up as they passed. "I say! Young knight and fair lady…you must do something! The dragon has taken a fine young maiden against her will! You must rush to aid her, before all is lost!" he declaimed dramatically.

Blaise leaned forward, intrigued, to ask more on the topic when Pansy impatiently sighed. "Come off it Milington, just tell us where he took her." Blaise turned as the old hard-as-nails Pansy resurfaced, glaring darkly at the portrait, who immediately turned and hurried on to the next painting ahead of them.

Without a word passed between them, Pansy and Blaise rushed after him. They followed him down twisting staircases and darkened halls as he blundered through each painting, armor clanking as he went, shouting apologies to the nuns he knocked over or the children he trampled.

Blaise was getting dizzy by the time they reached a narrow corridor with no paintings. Sir Godfrey had to stop, but he pointed insistently down the hallway. Pansy didn't even hesitate, jogging forward with Blaise at her heels.

"Stop it!" was the first thing they heard, slithering towards them from around the corner up ahead. Pansy made a gasping noise and sped faster. Blaise caught some of the exigency and with long, purposeful strides, hurried towards the corner.

"Why?" he recognized Draco's voice, soft and dangerous, like a snake waiting to strike. "Get off me!" _Oh gods._ Pansy and Blaise's identical thoughts clashed with a sense of horror at whatever was happening just beyond their reach.

The image that presented itself to them stopped them in their tracks. Draco was forcing himself on Ginny Weasley, pressing her against the wall. Ginny's face was scrunched up in disgust and turned away from his lips, searching hungrily for hers. "I plan to be more on you than just this." He said huskily, turning her to face him and lowering his lips to hers.

"DRACO!" Blaise burst out, overcoming the paralysis that had come over him and rushing forward to pull Draco off the much smaller girl. Blaise held his friend at arm's length and turned to the younger girl. Poor thing barely came up to his nose. She was a little pale, but other than that, she looked fine. As fine as one can be when being pressed against a wall by the Slytherin Sex God. Shaking herself a little, she nodded to Blaise and went over to Pansy, who looked uncertain whether she should slap her senseless or slap some sense into her. Both were looking good by now.

Blaise watched as Pansy carted the red head off. At the corner, Ginny turned her head to look back just once. Her eyes locked with Blaise, and he swore he saw something like approval there…and something else…understanding.

With a small, knowing smile, she was gone.

Blaise turned back to Draco, anger burning in his eyes. "What…the…fuck…was…that?" he asked, fists clenching in his robes as his voice grated against the very walls of the foundation.

Draco felt that familiar surge of fear as Blaise's normally cheery face hardened, anger prominent on the planes and contours in every inch of skin. "What was what?" he asked, hoping to play dumb. Bad move. With a half-hiss, Blaise shoved Draco against the wall as he had several weeks ago. "Don't you dare toy with me Draco!" he growled. "What, were you trying to get back at her? Because she showed you up? That's pathetic, man. You were going to force yourself on a girl just because you don't like her?"

Something broke in Draco…and Blaise saw it. It was something he couldn't define, nor would he ever recognize. It was something that stunned him, because whatever it was, he had the feeling it shouldn't be seen on a Malfoy.

Lowering him, Blaise stepped back. "Leave her alone, Malfoy." He said, voice like ice. With a swish of his cloak, he was gone, leaving Draco to crumble warily to the floor.

…………

……….

…………

Harry stumbled back into the Gryffindor Common Room much later. His thoughts were whirling about in his head. Harry quickly slammed up a wall in defense, shielding himself from those thoughts. He didn't want to think about it anymore; no more than he wanted to think about Zabini and the things he'd said. It was like he'd known…everything.

Harry was still uncertain why Zabini had talked to him in the first place, and was still fairly certain it wouldn't do him any good, but it intrigued him, just as much as it unnerved him. what on earth was going on?

He shook his head violently, heading over to where Ron and Hermione were sitting, studying their Charms books intently. Or rather, Hermione was and Ron was busy practicing turning her hair different colours without her knowledge.

Grinning at Ron and a violet-headed Hermione, Harry sunk down into the armchair across from them. It was actually quite late and everyone else had gone up to their separate dorms. Ron was getting increasingly worried every time he remembered that Ginny still hadn't come back.

Since it was Friday, Hermione had asked them to stay up with her and get their homework finished for the weekend so they could 'do something fun together'. Harry and Ron prayed it had nothing to do with S.P.E.W. Sure, she'd given it up, especially after that one house-elf incident with the mop…but there was always the lingering fear that it would pop up in her mind again and come back to haunt them all.

Hermione looked up from her book, totally oblivious that her hair was flashing neon green, and smiled up at Harry, looking happier than she had in days. Ron just sniggered and went back to her hair.

"Where have you been, eh?" Ron asked distractedly, his spell going wrong and turning her hair into a bunch of slithering green snakes. He rushed to fix the problem before Hermione realized her hair was hissing. Harry swallowed a smirk; the question brought back the thoughts he'd managed to subdue. It didn't help he was talking to the brother of one of said thoughts.

Praying to Godric that Ron had no mind-reading capabilities, Harry put on his best impassive face. "Just out thinking." He covered effortlessly when he realized Ron was still waiting for his answer, having managed to get Hermione's hair back to a comfortable tangerine color. Ron nodded and with a decisive flick of his wand, Hermione's hair was sporting glittering scarlet lions. Sitting back, a satisfied grin on his lips, Ron smirked at Harry.

Harry wondered briefly just exactly what Ron would do to him if he ever awoke to hear Harry calling Ginny's name out restlessly in the middle of the night. He was still thinking on the subject when suddenly the fire roared and with a pop, someone with shaggy, more-mussed-than-usual hair appeared in the fire.

Hermione and Ron leaned over the back of the couch they were sitting on and Harry wandered around it to kneel in front of the flames. Remus Lupin's head was floating in the fireplace, an expression of pure horror on it. Harry thought to himself that he'd never seen Remus look this frightened, _ever._

He was gasping for breath and his eyes were darting around furtively, fearfully; fear lodged permanently in his tired brown eyes. "Harry! Ron! Hermione! Please, please, you must do something, quick!" he screamed, begging wildly, all the while glancing about as if someone would attack him.

Ron leaned forward so much he fell over the back of the couch and ended up crawling over to the fireplace to stare in horror at their calm and composed former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. What could possibly scare an Order member and werewolf so badly?

In the background they heard loud bangs and muffled shouting. Harry was the first to get over his shock. "Remus! What's happening? Is it a DeathEater attack? What's going on?" Remus's eyes rolled around as he shifted, lower lip actually trembling. "It's not that." He said hastily as the pounding got louder and more determined. The shouts rose and they could tell it was definitely female.

Harry racked his head for female supporters of Voldemort, but they were all in Azkaban or dead. What was happening? Had there been a break-out? He forced himself to remain calm, as Remus certainly wasn't going to do it. "Remus, Remus…take a deep breath. What's happening?" Remus let out a pitiful moan and swiveled his head as the pounding was accompanied with splintering, cracking noises. His eyes widened as they listened to what was most likely someone or something breaking through a door.

He turned to them. "Please, please! You've got to help me! She's coming through the door! She's after me, you've got to help me, please!" Harry moved closer frantically at the hysteria in his voice. "Remus, who? Who's after you?" the splintering increased and Remus clutched his head in his hands.

"Fleur!" he shrieked.

All three of them were silent as what he'd said processed through their minds. Then a low chuckle started behind them. All three whirled to see Ginny standing in the middle of the common room, apparently having heard the conversation. In the midst of all the panic they hadn't even heard her come in.

She started laughing harder as Remus was tackled out of sight by something pale and quick. Her laughter was drowned out by Remus's somewhat muffled cries for help. "No, no! No, don't…get off me! No, no not the pants, I-" the fire dulled and with an accompanying pop! the image disappeared, leaving the room in silence but for Ginny's boisterous laughter.

Three very confused heads turned to her questioningly. It took her a full two minutes to stop laughing, and even where she did speak, it was with an occasional giggle.

"Ooh…they did it…ha…they actually did it." She giggled again. Ron cocked his head. "Who? Did what?" he asked, his previous worry for her disappearing. She grinned uncontrollably to herself as she sunk down in the chair Harry had vacated.

"Fred and George write to me every week, letting me know what they're up to and what I'm allowed to know about what's going on at Grimauld Place." More laughter. "Well, last week they sent me a letter saying they've invented a new batch of Love Potion; makes you show your true feelings to people you love. Actually, they sent me a letter asking if I'd like to help them test something out. I said no." she scoffed. "Apparently, they were afraid the potion's lust factor was too high and since I declined their generous offer, the mentioned something about "accidentally" knocking an experimental batch into Fleur's tea to see what she'd do to Bill." She glanced at the ceiling, barely restraining laughter.

Confused glances passed between the two boys but Hermione's jaw dropped and her eyes sparkled like mad. "I can't believe it!" she shrieked almost triumphantly. Ron eyed her suspiciously. "What on earth…?" he mused.

Ginny grinned wickedly. "Last summer when Fleur was visiting to tell mum about her and Bill's engagement…you remember- she had to stay in our room because mum didn't want her and Bill up to anything?" that wickedly evil smirk again.

Hermione let out a snort and picked up the explanation. "Well, we may or may not have gotten Fleur a little sloshed…but either way, she told Ginny and I a tiny little secret." She said, holding her index finger and thumb centimetres apart.

"She's apparently a very competitive girl, our Fleur." Ginny said, smirking. "Doesn't like anyone turning her down; can't comprehend that anyone could ever not fall for her."

Hermione shot an almost fond look at the fireplace. "Remus didn't." Ginny laughed. "Turned her down flat during one of her and Bill's off moments. Seems he's got eyes for someone else." She shrugged her shoulders. "Dunno who, but it seems that even though she's marrying Bill in a few weeks, Fleur's still lusting over him. Mum won't be too happy…"

Comprehension dawned on them, and soon the entire room was filled with their laughter as they recalled the flash of white that had been Fleur, and Remus's last words. Poor Remus…

Wiping her eyes, Ginny stood and prepared to go off to bed. She was feeling much better than she had been earlier, when Pansy had walked her back to Gryffindor tower, insisting she did so, giving the excuse that she'd placed the baby in Pomfrey's care and that Malfoy might pop up unexpectedly at any moment.

More likely than not. Ginny shuddered at the thought of everything she had put on the line, everything she could have lost, if not for Pansy and Blaise. Blaise…she would have to thank him. It would be alright…she didn't think it would do any harm…it wasn't like he desired her for himself…she didn't know why exactly, it was just a gut feeling she had…

And she'd learned to trust her gut feeling.

……….

……….

Colin stirred slightly as something ran down his bare back. He shivered, still half-asleep, and rolled over. Odekerk was absentmindedly running one finger down his back, drawing lazy circles with her nail. She looked up as Colin rolled over and smirked.

"Hello Mr. Creevey." She quirked her lips up. Colin grinned down at her. "Good morning Ms. Odekerk." He smiled back at her, reaching out to touch her chin. She closed her eyes sleepily, shifting closer to wrap an arm around his waist. She breathed in deeply, seemingly content.

Colin wasn't quite so. He fingered her long charcoal-coal hair idly, winding it around each of his fingers. "Oy, look…I, eh…I don't want you to think I regret this, but…" he took a deep breath as she tilted her head up to look curiously at him. "…where does this leave us?" he asked, letting out his breath in a whoosh.

Odekerk frowned slightly, eyes focusing somewhere far off, somewhere not in the room: the future. Several seconds ticked by and her lip went numb from how harshly she was biting it. Finally she shook her head slightly and turned to Colin, still half-locked in embrace.

"Well…I have to think from a teacher's professional mind frame…what is best for you and for me. Responsibly, I think the best thing would be to forget this ever happened and go our separate ways." She stated matter-of-factly, containing any emotions she might have otherwise displayed.

Colin stared off over her shoulder, trying to do the same. Okay, so he wasn't exactly the virginal altar boy…still, he had felt something, some connection he'd never felt before. It had been the most mind-blowing experience of his young life and he would have liked to have thought it was the same for her…apparently not.

He didn't know what he had thought would happen; of course they couldn't start something. He was a student and she was a teacher. If they were ever found out, he could be tossed out of Hogwarts and her as well. This was the best course of action to follow, his logic told him that much…but the rest of him was point-blank disagreeing.

He opened his mouth to say something…anything…he really wasn't sure…when she put a finger to his lips. He looked down to find a hesitant smile in her eyes, along with a wild look that Colin recognized from watching people about to do something they thought they shouldn't.

"However, what I think is best to do, and what I intend on doing are two separate things." She said, slowly, yet assertively. She wasn't backing out on this; when she was sure of something, if her heart or body told her something, she went with it. And of this she was sure.

Colin's vacant eyes took on a glimmer of joy and wonder. Since when was he so lucky? With a sudden, decisive movement, he leaned down and took her lips. She closed her eyes and moaned softly as his lips and tongue moved against hers. Instinctively she moved closer, reveling in the warmth and satiating comfort he provided.

The interruption was most unexpected and unwelcome. They broke apart and glanced over at the door to the Potions classroom, where a muffled cursing sound was heard as something thumped against the door.

Everything happened so quickly. Colin had no time to do anything but leap up, completely starkers and turn to Odekerk, eyes wild and questioning. She, equally de-clothed, jumped up and shoved him forward. There was no time for him to get dressed or get out, so she did the only logical thing anyone would think of:

She shoved him under Snape's desk.

Muttering, "Donatius!" frantically under her breath, Odekerk aimed her wand (which she'd grabbed from the corner where it had been flung along with her cloak) at her clothes. All items reappeared on her body, leaving her with jut enough time to smooth out her hair and seat herself composedly at the desk Colin was under before the door to the classroom opened with a disgruntled, "Alohomara!"


	11. Certain GoingsOn

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Yeah, I know I haven't updated this in so long. Mostly because I cannot stand it. I loathe this story. Only I have the capability to take a perfectly good idea and fuck it up. So, I really want to know...should I just delete this story? It could get better, but I don't think anyone is really interested in it. Let me know, please. Ejoy.

**DISCLAIMER:** I own only the crappy plot and the atrocious lullaby.

* * *

**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter Eleven: Certain Goings-on

* * *

**

Pansy awoke groggily that morning. She hadn't gotten to sleep until at least two; even after getting back from the escapade with Malfoy and Ginny, Evangel had refused to go to sleep for the longest time.

Now Pansy woke, sore and tired, practically feeling the heavy bags pulling under her eyes. She rubbed her face wearily and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Standing, she glanced around the room. Where the hell was she supposed to get breakfast?

The thought had barely passed through her mind when Ginny bustled in through the door somewhat quietly, arms full of what smelled to Pansy like little sinful pieces of heaven. No time to decipher that oxymoronically bizarre thought; she was starving.

Noticing that Pansy was awake, Ginny smiled warmly at her. "Hello, Pans. Sleep well?" she grinned, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Pansy growled slightly, the food in the red-head's arms and the natural affection for her kept the words 'Fuck you' well strapped to her tongue. "Morning to you too, Gin." She mumbled, yawning as she tried to decide what she wanted more; food or sleep.

Ginny smirked as she set the food down and went over to the window. Opening it, sunlight streamed into the room in a manner Pansy found most offensive. "_Afternoon_, Pans. It's nearly one." Ginny corrected as she went back over to the food.

Pansy seated herself with a yawn as Ginny pulled item after item from the large sack she'd brought with her. Pansy's sleep-riddled eyes slowly widened as Ginny pulled out fresh fruits, steaming pastries, and mouth-watering breakfast items of every type.

"Where…?" she asked, reaching out for a piece of french toast. Ginny grinned maniacally, a smile of satisfaction and gratification. "The kitchens." She answered smoothly. Pansy's eyes bugged and she swallowed the bite she'd just taken.

"You know where the kitchens are?" she gasped. Ginny gave her an odd look. "Of course. My brothers told me." She nearly broke into laughter as she thought of Fred and George's incident with Remus and Fleur. Pansy's eyes had reached their widening point, yet she still continued to goggle at Ginny.

"No one in Slytherin knows where the kitchens are, and Malfoy and Blaise have been looking for years!" she added, awe in her voice. Ginny shrugged, as if it were nothing. "I'll take you down there sometime if you want." Okay, so perhaps Pansy's eyes hadn't _quite_ reached their widening point, but they definitely had now. "Will you?" she asked. Ginny nodded, smiling. "Of course. We could go during the next Hogsmeade trip…unless you wanted to go?" she asked.

Pansy racked her brain. "The next Hogsmeade trip's on a Saturday and I can't take Eve with me." Ginny had to struggle at the pride that swelled in her at the affectionate nickname Pansy had already formed for the girl. It wasn't any 'sweetie-pie', but it was better than 'it'.

"If you wanted to go, I could watch her for the day." Ginny offered. "I never go anyways, and I love spending time with the baby." She turned her head to smile fondly at the cradle, where Evangel was sleeping away peacefully.

Pansy shook her head, a smile of wonderment on her face. "You never cease to amaze me…Saint Ginny indeed." While waving it away, Ginny flushed in pleasure at the compliment. "Enough Pansy, my ego's big enough already." She grinned, taking a bite out of a red apple.

They sat in companionable silence, each thinking as they steadily ate their way through the provisions Ginny had brought. It was Ginny who broke the silence, tilting her chin up to look at Pansy. "I'd like to thank the boy you brought down yesterday…the one who intervened when Malfoy…" she trailed off, her stomach sinking with a sickening feeling. "Well, the one who came to help last night." She finished off. "Blaise Zabini, right?" she asked, hurrying on before Pansy could get started on Draco Malfoy.

Pansy nodded. "Yeah, Blaise. Quite possibly the closest to a human being you'll find in Slytherin." She scoffed. Ginny grinned. "I'd like to thank him personally sometime…you really have no idea how grateful I am that he came when he did…" she shivered slightly. Pansy nodded understandingly. "Maybe I can get him to talk to you later today." She suggested.

Ginny was just nodding back her thanks when a demanding cry broke through her words. Pansy jumped to her feet, startled, and made her way over to the cradle. Ginny turned in her seat and rested her arms on the back of the chair, a small smile tugging at her lips as she watched Pansy scoop up the child and cradle it in her arms.

Ginny decided it was time to bow out when Pansy began to feed the child, a warm smile beginning to spread subconsciously over her lips. Pulling the door quietly shut behind her, Ginny took one last peek through the crack before closing the door entirely.

She turned around slowly and nearly screamed. Blaise Zabini was looming just in front of her. She stepped back, hand flying to her mouth as if to hold in the gasp that was working its way from her lips. She forced her heart to calm; it wasn't Malfoy. Truth was, she was having nightmares of him popping up everywhere. She gave the somewhat daunting-looking young man a small smile.

"Hi, Zabini, wasn't it?" she asked, sticking out her hand for him to shake. He hesitated for a moment before pulling her tiny hand into his larger one. Letting his hand go, Ginny felt an air of seriousness coming over her. He hadn't seen inside, had he? She shifted in front of the door, jut in case.

She pushed that unsettling thought from her mind. "Listen, Zabini…" she began, testing out the name and finding it a little difficult to push past her lips. "…I just wanted to thank you…personally…for what you did last night." She paused, pushing away an image of Malfoy's face so close to hers. "You…really…don't know how much it meant…how much it means…I know Malfoy's your friend, and so it must have been hard, but I just wanted to say that I really, really appreciate what you did." She cocked her head to the side. "Thank you." She said, flushing slightly because she'd been babbling. He was, after all, a very intimidating Slytherin.

All that changed as he smiled at her. It was an almost soft smile…as soft as one can smile with as much pain in their life as Blaise had had. "Malfoy's been my best friend for as long as I can remember…even so, he's still a bit of a prat from time to time." She grinned wryly with an expression on her face that fully agreed with him. "But, he's had a really difficult life…try not to judge him too harshly." With that, and a tip of his head, he was gone.

Ginny stared after him for a moment, drinking in his words. Damn…he was right…she had judged Malfoy before giving him a chance. She was breaking her own rules…with a sigh, she headed off for the Gryffindor common room.

…………………………………………

Colin's heart was hammering in his chest and he was sure it was completely audible to everyone else in the room. He let out a little rasping noise that was cut off as Odekerk kicked him in the stomach. He immediately shut his mouth.

Odekerk looked up, seemingly disinterested as Snape stumbled into the room, his arms laden with newly-gathered Potions supplies from Madame Pomfrey. He could barely see over the top stack of doxy-dropping-jars. One hand loosely held his wand.

He dumped his heavy load onto the nearest table-top, panting heavily. His pasty face dripped with sweat. Odekerk's nose scrunched at the rather gross sight. Would the man just go out and get some exercise?

Snape finally seemed to notice he was not the only one in the classroom. He turned towards his desk to see Odekerk sitting there calmly. He scowled immediately. "What are you still doing here?" he growled, evoking a sneer worthy of his from her. "Unless you forgot, oh mighty one, _you_ asked me to come down and watch a student serve detention last night, _Severus_." She spat his first name.

Colin listened from under the table interestedly, not without a little jealousy. What was their relationship that they could be on a first-name basis? Snape bared his teeth at her. "Yes, but that would imply that you would have been gone long ago last night…so why are you still here, polluting my room, _Velixandre_?" he spat her name as she had his.

She glowered at him. "I had to stay after grading some papers and I fell asleep. Not everyone has the same luxury that you do of just giving the Slytherins perfect scores and everyone else failing grades. _Some_ teachers here actually grade fairly, something you would know nothing about."

They traded glares for a few moments before Snape grumbled something about getting more supplies and whirled from the room. Colin peeked out from under the desk. "Score one for Odekerk." He grinned. Odekerk glanced down at him and let out a small chuckle. "Oh, I do hate that man." She said, almost sadly, shaking her head.

Jealousy flared up in Colin again. She sounded almost regretful…had they been lovers once? The thought was repellent. He quickly set about getting his things and getting dressed. He finally found his school things underneath a cauldron they must have knocked over in their…activities.

"I have to get back to my common room…" he said shortly, still thinking of Snape and Odekerk. She must have noticed the sharpness in his voice because she turned to him. "Creevey?" she asked, a little bit of concern hinting in her voice. Yet the intended soothing pierced him; she didn't even call him by his first name.

"I'll see you later." With that he had fled the room, leaving Odekerk to watch the door bang shut with what felt suspiciously like tears in her eyes.

…………………………………………………

Harry ran into Ginny just outside the Gryffindor common room. Ginny stumbled back and landed on her rear. "Whoompf!" she gasped, hitting the ground with a thump. Harry winced and immediately launched into an apology, all the while helping her back to her feet.

"Gods alive, Ginny I'm so sorry…I didn't see you." Ginny gave him a good-natured smile and waved away his apologies. "No problem…plenty of padding." She grinned, rubbing her backside sorely.

Harry flushed and let go of her hand, unsure if he was even allowed to speak. Was one allowed to speak about a girl's assets with her if they weren't romantically involved? Harry decided there needed to be a class on the matter. It was probably a hell of a lot more useful than anything he'd ever learned in Divination.

He shook himself back to reality as he noticed Ginny was looking at him strangely. "Harry, are you alright?" she asked softly, wondering to herself what had gotten him so worked up; his skin was pale, his hair mussed, and his eyes glazed over.

He seemed to snap back to himself. "Hmm…what? Oh yeah, I'm fine." He nodded, unconvincingly, Ginny thought. "Hey Gin…do you want to go out sometime? Maybe go to Hogsmeade?"

Ginny was totally taken off balance by the statement. She blinked rapidly a few times. Then she let out a short laugh. "I'm sorry, I think I just hallucinated…what?" she asked. Harry ran a shaking hand through his hair. This was so awkward. She was practically his sister…and yet so very certainly not his sister…not after those dreams. Dear gods, what on earth had made him ask her? She was giving him that odd look again…

"D'youwannagooutwithmesometime?" he rushed.

Ginny blinked again, then shook her head. "Harry, I'm not positive, but if you were asking me if I wanted to go out with you…I'd have to say no." she said, firmly. It was Harry's turn to blink. "No." he repeated unbelievingly. Ginny shook her head resolutely. "No." she restated.

Ah…this could be a problem…

………………………………………………

"Harry, you're not interested in me." Ginny protested. Unbelievable…you love a bloke for a good four years and he never looks twice at you. The second you become too occupied for a boy, he's chasing after you like you were the Golden Snitch itself.

"You never were." Ginny added emphatically. "So I don't see any reason to indulge you in this whimsical farce…I don't want anything to do with it, and you'd only grow to regret it. Find something you really want, Harry…find it and get it."

Not giving him a chance to respond, she continued on inside the common room, leaving Harry behind with her words to ponder on.

He didn't stand there long.

………………………………………………

Hart glanced up from her Mythology book, peering at Ginny as she walked in over thick, square-rimmed glasses. "Long time no see…" she trailed as Ginny lugged herself into the room, her thoughts still whirling around Harry. Ginny glanced up and grinned at Hart, who was looking unreasonably cheerful.

"I can't help it if you go to bed before I do and wake up after I do." She said, shrugging her shoulders. Hart grinned back in reply. Ginny arched an eyebrow, plopping down on a chair across from Hart. "You're looking awfully perky this morning…good night?" Hart nodded enthusiastically.

"Hermione Granger and I went out and flew around the Quidditch pitch. She's great! Well…not on a broomstick, but she's terrific. You never told me she was so incredible." She said, almost in awe. Ice-cold shock rushed through Ginny's veins. She knew that look…the look Hart had sparkling in her eyes. It was the look her mother gave her father…the look that professed infinite happiness within another human.

Well, this was new.

Trying to wrap her head around the eventful developments she seemed to have missed out on, Ginny grinned absently back at Hart. At that moment, Hermione graced the room with her presence, and a flash of pain jumped through her as she didn't see the same look in Hermione's eyes. Hermione looked happy and all, but there was something missing…something that Hart was riding high on. Poor dear had no clue…

As Hermione sat down to chatter with Hart, telling her about the thorough beating she'd given Ron when she woke up and saw her hair, Ginny watched on, her eyes un-focusing and her hearing drowned out by the wave-like crash of her own thoughts inside her head. She'd known for a while that Hart wouldn't ever be attracted to men…that it wasn't just a pre-adolescent stage she was going through. She didn't know how she knew, or why she knew…she just knew.

She'd always known that Hart would one day turn to women as a source of more than just companionship. Yet she had never imagined it might be Hermione…

Apparently, Hermione had never imagined it either. The girl was all too oblivious to the fluttering interest, however uncertain and scared, that the younger girl was exuding. The girl was too busy with her school-work for just about anyone, let alone someone so complicated as Hart.

But, there was no telling. Hermione had never really felt cherished before. And Ginny saw something of that nature in Hart's eyes. If the time came and Hart finally made her move, would Hermione chose a different path? She was the one wild card in the whole equation that could turn the game either way.

…………………………………………………

Pansy spun around in a circle, clutching Evangel to her chest. The baby gurgled happily as Pansy gently held her out and spun softly again. She smiled softly and began to sing a gentle lullaby under her breath.

"_Dry your tears my child,_

_Fly still where you are;_

_Dreams that are mild,_

_And fate-less so far._

_Let warm winds surround you,_

_And starlight caress you,_

_Let my love abound in you,_

_To guide you and bless you. _

_Your troubles will come with the dawning of age,_

_Yet just for now be still in the light where you lay,_

_The book you are living has not reached that page,_

_That time will soon come with pain in its own day._

_Hush my child, still your cries,_

_Leave the tomorrow for me to devise,_

_Soon enough, starlight will fade and desert you,_

_But my love will be here to change and convert you._

_Dry your tears my child, _

_Fly still where you are;_

_Dreams that are mild,_

_And fate-less so far."_

Pansy smiled satisfactorily as Evangel's fleshy eyelids closed over her gorgeous eyes. With an uncharacteristic swell of love, she placed her lips softly to Evangel's forehead, setting her down in a pen constructed for the baby.

She leaned there, resting her weight on the side of the pen, gazing down at her sleeping child with something that resembled real love and adoration for the first time ever. This was what Ginny had been talking about…she thought in wonder.

A sound from the door made her jump and words spoken from behind her made her gasp.

"Ruddy hell…"


	12. Drinks and You Say You Want a Revolution

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Here you go. Chapter Twelve, just to state the obvious.

**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine if it belongs to J. K. Rowling. Ten points if anyone can tell me what song part of the chapter title came from.

* * *

**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter Twelve: Drinks and You Say You Want a Revolution?

* * *

**

Harry hurried away from the portrait of the Fat Lady soon after Ginny left. He was certain she couldn't know about how real his feelings were or she wouldn't have said that, but her words were true and honest. And she was right… to a degree. He was going to get what he wanted. But he needed some help.

He had to find Blaise.

How he was going to do that, he had no idea. He wandered the halls for ages, looking around furtively and asking anyone and everyone he met if they'd seen the tall, dark Slytherin who seemed to know more about Harry than Harry did and Harry needed to find out how to get Ginny.

People kept giving him odd looks, shuffling away from him with whispers and furtive glances back. Harry nearly screamed in frustration, but decided against it, as it would most likely only increase their suspicions that he was insane.

At one point he even wormed his way up to Malfoy in the library, asking him if he knew where Blaise was. "It's urgent." Harry'd added as Malfoy arched one sophisticated eyebrow at him. The quizzical look had soon turned harsh. "Go find him yourself, Potty, we've all got our own problems to solve." He'd ground out before whirling from the library in a huff.

Harry was mulling over his thoughts, sulking in the idea that he had no one to share them with, and wishing he knew what Blaise's game was when a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Harry?"

……………………………

Pansy muffled a shriek as she whirled around, heart hammering in her throat.

Blaise Zabini stood just inside the room, his dark eyes riveted to the now-sleeping infant in the pen. Pansy's eyes widened and a wild look, like a trapped animal came into them as she looked from Blaise to Evangel, her mind racing rapidly.

"Blaise…what? What are you doing here?" she asked, moving in front of the baby, shielding it with her body…too late of course. His eyes finally rose to meet hers, comprehension dawning on him. "So…you-you didn't…kill….your child." He stammered, eyes lowering to the baby once more.

Bitter, metallic fear, sharp and biting, rose in her mouth. "It's not mine." She explained hastily. Blaise gave her a look that mostly clearly said he wasn't buying it. "It's not." She repeated. Blaise shook his head slowly, his eyes locking with hers.

"Pansy, why didn't you tell us? You've had to do this all by yourself? You didn't have to do this alone…you could have told someone." He said, soothingly. Something harsh broke into Pansy's eyes. "Oh yeah, and who was I going to tell, huh Blaise? You? _Draco_?" she spat vindictively. "Any other one of my so-called friends who would have ratted me out in a second for a spare galleon? Who should I have told, Blaise? I had no one." She spat, glaring frightfully at him.

He sighed inwardly, taking in a pinch of guilt as her eye welled with tears. "I know we were never there for you Pans…but still…we've never lost our loyalty…we would have helped you if you asked us to." Pansy sniffled, turning away, refusing to let him see her cry.

"Yeah, well…I didn't. Go ahead…run off and tell Malfoy. I'll be here packing my things." Blaise stared at her back in confusion. "Things? Pansy, you're not leaving, and I'm not telling Draco." His words rang so true that Pansy turned to eye him curiously.

"Really?" she asked. Blaise nodded. "I don't see why you have to deal with this yourself. I won't tell Malfoy now, but I think you should. Not now, not yet…but eventually. He's all worked up over you these days." Pansy snorted. "Not interested. Never was, really." She added thoughtfully.

Blaise's mouth turned down in a frown. In his opinion, Draco just really needed a girl in his life; not one of the many one-nighters he had, but a constant relationship with someone who actually cared for him…ha, fat chance that was. Everyone hated Draco.

"Thank you."

It was so sudden, so uncharacteristic, so unwarranted that Blaise did a double-take. Pansy was staring at him wearily, tired eyes much older than the girl they were settled in staring out at him calmly as though she hadn't just spoken two words never heard in conjunction in the Slytherin world for as long as time could remember.

It took him a while to find his thoughts and even longer to arrange them into something that made sense. When he did, he was surprised at the words that left his mouth on their own accord.

"You're welcome."

……………………………………..

Ginny yawned after a while of watching Hart moon over Hermione without her knowledge. It was more than a little disturbing and Ginny wished there was something she could do to warn Hart before she got herself in too deep. But she wasn't sure if Hart knew about herself yet, and there was no way in hell Ginny would be the one to break it to her. That was something she had to come to terms with herself.

Bowing out, she wandered out to the classrooms. She planned on stopping in to talk to Pansy in a while, but now she just wanted to get out and walk around. She wandered absently until she found herself in front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

_Why not?_ She thought absently, before knocking on the door hesitantly. There was a muffled intake of breath from the other side of the door, some shuffling around and then a commanding "come in".

Ginny obeyed, pulling the door open and stepping in. Professor Odekerk was standing before a shelf of books, one large one pulled open into her arms. She turned her head and regarded Ginny as she entered and closed the door behind her.

"Ms. Weasley." She said, almost appraisingly looking her over. Ginny stood still, accepting her glance, and giving one of her own. Her D.A.D.A. teacher looked a little…harrowed. Her hair wasn't shining as neatly as it had before and her eyes looked a little dull. Other than that, she retained her imposing status, though Ginny noticed she was wearing neither cloak nor boots, and was subsequently somewhat shorter.

"Do sit down, I'm just finishing up here." Odekerk said smoothly, her voice rumbling like silk without a single catch in it. Ginny shook her head, though sitting down at one of the desks. "No, don't bother on my account. I was just wandering around and decided to pop in and see if you needed any help of any sort."

Odekerk's head tilted up so little and so fast that Ginny almost swore she'd imagined it. She also thought perhaps she imagined the desperation in the older woman's eyes. But her imagination really wasn't quite so fanciful as to be responsible for the shake in the teacher's hands that were now gripping the book with white knuckles.

She seemed to pull herself together and with little effort shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Not particularly." She said, a little too breezily. Ginny eyed her interestedly. Yes, there was definite pain there…

Her mind almost immediately settled into its natural mode. "Is there anything you want to talk about?" listening to herself as Odekerk raised her eyes to meet her own, Ginny thought she sounded like her mother.

"How are you in Divination?" she asked suddenly, eyes focusing so hard Ginny felt like they were piercing through her very skin. Ginny cocked her head, baffled. "Divination? Not particularly good, why?" she said, brows furrowing.

Odekerk's spine straightened as she put the book back on its shelf. "A sense…" she muttered to herself, taking a book down from the shelves and flipping through it, apparently forgetting Ginny was still in the room.

As her brown eyes began to trace lines in the stonework, Ginny barely realized Odekerk had receded into her own rooms. She was already caught up in her thoughts. Wondering why Odekerk was acting so strange and if it had anything to do with spending time around potions, she slipped off her seat and wandered idly out of the room, not bothering to try and talk to Odekerk again.

……………………………………………

Harry turned immediately, expecting Blaise even though he knew the voice to be too high for it. He tried not to look too annoyed. "Hullo Colin." He sounded dejected even to himself and resolved to appear more chipper. To hell with that…

Find what you want, and get it…

Colin eyed him oddly. "You alright Harry? You look as bad as I feel." He said. Harry snorted. "Thanks Colin." He said dejectedly. The younger boy shrugged his shoulders. "S'true. You look like shit…all worn out and pissed. Just tired really, and wishing you hadn't walked away. What happened? Bollixed everything up with the only person you think you've ever really had feelings for?" Colin shut his mouth abruptly before he started going on about his love affair with a teacher.

To his surprise Harry sighed and cast his gaze down. "And then some." He responded, a slight hint of bitterness in his voice that Colin found so prevalent in his own. Harry managed somehow to crack a grin. "Well, what do two fecked-up bastards go do when they've ruined their love lives?" he mused, jokingly. Colin grinned back. "One word, my fecked-up friend, one word…whiskey."

………………………………………………

There was something of an awkward silence in the common room. Hermione was fiddling with the edge of her shirt while Hart flipped through her photo album, completely unaware. Hermione was starting to get a little wary of this whole girl wanting to spend time with her thing. It was slightly disturbing in a very non-threatening kind of way.

Hermione's stomach chose that opportune moment to grumble loudly.

………………………………………………

Ginny glared at Sir Godfrey. "For the last time, I am neither a fair maiden, _nor_ in mortal peril! That was yesterday, stick with the times good man." She proclaimed the last with a bit of dramatic flair. The man in the poorly-oiled armour just eyed her suspiciously.

Rolling her eyes and shrugging her shoulders, Ginny walked past the stubborn portrait towards Pansy's door. She knocked softly and waited for Pansy's word to enter. A very faint "It's open," brought her to the other side of the door.

Closing the door behind her, she grinned at Pansy. "I just can't seem to stay away." She was about to go over and look in on the baby when she caught the paleness in Pansy's face that hadn't been there before and the slight droop of her shoulders.

"Pans? You alright…you seem a little…upset?" she asked, moving closer to Pansy. Pansy didn't answer, just stared at something over Ginny's shoulder. Hairs rose on Ginny's neck as she heard the slight rustling of clothing. Spinning around she saw Blaise Zabini grinning at them from a dark corner, where she'd passed him in the shadows on first entering the room.

She gasped and her eyes flew over to Evangel, who was in plain sight. She turned to Pansy, but just got a faint sigh in response. "Blaise Zabini, this is Ginevra Weasley…my child's part-time nanny." She explained with a sigh, sinking down onto the nearest chair.

Ginny turned frightened eyes up to Blaise, who merely smiled down at her. "Don't worry, little weasel…your secret's safe with me. I had to admit, I was rather confused when I found Pansy in the room I'd seen you leaving so early in the morning…but this does explain it rather well."

Ginny's eyes widened in horror. She spun to face Pansy. "I'm so sorry, I had no idea he would come back." She apologized. To her immense shock, Pansy gave her a weak smile. "No, no…it's fine. In fact, I'm rather glad. It's good to tell someone…half of Slytherin's been giving me these hostile looks all week because apparently they think I had the child killed inside me." Ginny cocked her head to the side. "What?" she asked, slightly confused.

"Kill the child in the womb; it began as a Muggle idea." Blaise explained carelessly, as thought he himself thought nothing of the idea. Ginny furrowed her brow. "But…how is that bad?" she asked, a sudden image of flushing eggs down a toilet coming to mind.

Pansy gave her this hard look. "It's not as simple as hexing away a fertilized egg, Ginny. We're talking about blasting away a partially developed child…a tiny human." Ginny's eyes widened, flying over to Evangel…to think…what could have happened…she thanked the gods that Pansy had been so dreadfully in love with Erom.

"To be honest, though…if anyone had to find out, I'd want it to be Blaise. He's the most humane one in Slytherin house, and that's saying something." She flashed a quick grin at her house-mate. "This coming from the girl who used to practice exploding small bugs?" Blaise retorted with a grin of his own.

Ginny relaxed listening to the two banter. A thought popped into her head. "Why don't you just tell the whole of Slytherin house, then?" she asked curiously. Pansy's head turned slowly to regard Ginny.

With a sigh, she shook her head. "It's not that easy…" she hedged, searching for the right words. Blaise noticed her dilemma and took over. "Slytherin house is in a state of disorder right now. We're at a time of chaos and dissolve…side against side. There are the good…as far as Slytherins go…on the side against Voldemort and his practical human-enslavement and control. They may not be with the Aurors and the Ministry, but they…we…hate Voldemort just as much as you do." He started.

_Fat chance._ Ginny thought, Tom Riddle's horrific face looming in her mind's eye.

"And then there are the bad…the ones who are only too willing to obey their parent's every command and sacrifice themselves upon the altar of the Lord…too be his willing human counterparts in the sick game he plays." Contempt rose heavy in his voice.

"I'm not saying I'm any angel…I don't think anyone in Slytherin is…but I don't like killing. Not for any reason other than preservation of self. Not the mindless sprees the Lord sends his DeathEaters on. I don't believe in that. I've done things I'm not proud of…" he grimaced slightly "…but I will not become a puppet to that…thing." He spat.

Ginny's eyes were wide with the vehemence of his statement. Turning, she saw the same radical look in Pansy's eyes, along with a new stab of respect. "I didn't realize so many of our number have turned from the dark side. Tell me, how many have disobeyed the Lord since I left?"

"Millicent, Terry, Walt, Adrenna, and Corry just left at the beginning of this school year. Daren, Maleva, Nathan, and Delia fled their parents houses over the summer, and Draco and I left right after you did."

Pansy's eyes widened, tears coming to them as a smile worked its way onto her lips. "That's…that's… " she started counting on her fingers. "Eleven. Twelve including you." Blaise supplied and Pansy's lips seemed to go dry. "You started it all…you were the first to leave…the first to actually say no…that's all it took for the rest of us to follow."

Pansy sat in shocked bliss for several minutes, letting the information sink in. Without a word, she stood and embraced Blaise in a hug, surprising everyone in the room. "Come back, Pans. We need you. It's broken; we promised we'd never let our loyalties die…well, they're dead and buried and it's about time we did something to change that." Blaise said. Ginny just watched interestedly.

"Okay."


	13. We'll Have a Drink and Pass Out and Snot

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Long. What can I say? No one seems interested. I certainly want to get it over with.

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine if it belongs to J. K. Rowling

* * *

**The Hogwats Renaissance**

**Chapter Thirteen: We'll Have a Drink and Pass Out and Snot Like That

* * *

**

Ron glanced up from the new chess-set he'd been polishing. It had been a gift from Bill the previous year and was one of the nicest things he owned.

Yet as the door to the boy's seventh year dormitory opened, he set down the cleaning cloth he was using and peered around his bed-curtains.

The sight that met him was most unexpected. Not only were Harry and Colin acting rather chummy, but they were staggering around in a manner of the most definitely not sober. Plus Harry was holding an empty bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey. Ron had recently learned to count and he knew what two and two made.

"Erm…Harry?" Ron asked uncertainly, slipping off his bed as Harry unwound his arm from Colin's neck. Colin keeled over without further delay. Harry made a valiant, if intoxicated, attempt to step over Colin's immobile form, but just managed to step on him and trip in his present state.

Ron winced as Harry landed fully on his nose with a crunching noise. A slurred 'buggershit' came from the carpet and Ron rolled his eyes. He hadn't pinned Harry for the getting-smashed type. Or Colin for that matter. "Ruddy hell, mate, what're you on about?" Ron asked harshly, bending over to help Harry up.

Grimacing, he waved his wand and fixed Harry's bloody nose. Harry goggled at him with glazed and unfocused eyes as he leaned heavily on Ron. "Hullo good-lickin'. Whooopsh." He slurred, snorting in a truly terrifying fashion. "'Atsh good-lookin'…but you wouldn't be good-lickin'…yer shishter ish, though. Parksinsons too-o-o-o-o…" he frowned to himself and began to try and figure out how many 'o's were in 'too'. "Eight minush fity-tree timesh for…plush…_hic_…twenny-niney…d'vided by…_hic…_shixty-sheven…" here Ron stopped him, thoroughly baffled and not quite sure he wanted to know.

"Harry, wha-"

"SHEVENTEEN!"

"Very nice…what the bloody hell're you up to? Are you drunk?" he asked, somewhat stupidly as the alcohol smell emanating from Harry's mouth could have made Hagrid wince.

Harry shook his head valiantly. "Nope…nononnonnonoonoonononooooooooo…" he trailed off, making a sound that Ron was entirely certain should never be heard outside a farm with…demented…cows…

"Okay then, tell you what…you go to sleep now and we'll talk about this in the morning over tea and major hangover remedies." Harry snorted again and Ron nearly groaned. "I'll have Hermione make you something for the morning, okay? You just go to sleep now." However, Harry made more snorts and Ron dropped him to the floor in favour of trying to blind himself. It was so incredibly wrong to watch snot fly out of the nose of his best mate…Harry Potter, most likely the strongest wizard of his age…and he was snorting bogeys all over Ron's carpet.

"Me don' thinsh Mi-no-inny'sh gonna be up to makings a potionsh…she'sh gonna be needin' some potionsh hershelf…" more snorting and Ron would never again wear those shoes. Ron was contemplating kicking Harry down the stairs in hopes of shutting him up. However, he opted for the next best thing; the most plausible course of action to take when faced with a situation such as this…

"Stupify!"

…………………………………………………

Hermione sighed, slumping back against the Fat Lady's frame. Hart had not shut up for a good four hours and she'd missed her dinner. It was only luck that Hermione had been able to steal away when Hart went upstairs to work on her Potions essay. Wandering down the halls, Hermione wondered what on earth had gotten into the girl. She was certainly acting odd.

Her mind vaguely made the connection to some elaborate plot, but she decided that was just being too paranoid. Moody had the constant vigilance department down pat; he certainly didn't need any extra help from her.

Grumbling along with her stomach, Hermione turned her feet towards the kitchens for the first time in years. "This is why I don't have any girl friends!" she muttered to herself as her stomach turned expectantly.

Afraid that her stomach would randomly jump out and envelop the next person she came across, Hermione quickened her pace.

What she wouldn't give for Harry or Ron to be there for her.

But her stomach might just swallow them.

Food was definitely called for.

…………………………………………………

Draco was furious. Not that he was ever anything but furious, but at the moment, furious didn't even begin to describe what he was putting himself through. It was all that damn Weasley bint's fault.

Sighing, he dropped back down onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling, taking advantage of actually having his bed and room to himself; Blaise was conspicuously missing. Draco hadn't seen him since the previous night.

_Fuck._ He thought, grimacing. The previous night was one of the most idiotic things he'd ever subjected himself to. What the bloody hell had he been thinking? He groaned to himself again. Stupid bloody Gryffindor Weasley…he thought maliciously. It was her.

He didn't know what it was or when it began, but more and more often lately he'd been noticing her in a manner that was not entirely condescendingly. He'd been noticing Pansy more often as well, but that was different. He knew Pansy. Or at least the thought he did. The two girls had changed so much so recently that he had no idea what it was that was causing this abnormal attraction.

He scowled to himself. Yes, it was attraction. He was attracted to Ginny Weasley. Stupid, annoying, scrawny Ginny Weasley, the girl with a crush on Harry Fucking Potter.

Except she wasn't stupid; she could give Granger a run for her money. And she wasn't necessarily annoying unless he did something to start things; which he usually did. Even then he noticed a reluctance to bother with him. And she wasn't scrawny _feck no_. She had most definitely filled out in a way that had many boys following her with their eyes. That had been one of the first signs; the jealousy she induced just by walking by him and the surrounding males. Their reactions made him want to pummel something.

It wasn't until she passed by him completely one day that he realized he was jealously possessive of the girl. It made no sense; everything she did was maddening, and everything she was opposed him and his beliefs. She wasn't even the most beautiful girl in her year or house, let alone the school, not by a long shot.

Yet he couldn't get her off his mind. He finally decided it was just overactive hormones mixed with his obsessive drive to get back at her for the public humiliation he'd suffered at her hands.

But he had taken it too far last night…he wasn't entirely sure what he had in mind when he swept her off, but one thing had led to another and even afterwards, all he could distinctly remember was how right it felt to have her so close to him.

There was an aching for her he couldn't describe. It went beyond looks and personality (of which, in his opinion, she had neither), and permeated somewhere deep in his bones, where his magic resided. Somewhere in his blood it called to him and it was more than a little disturbing.

She was a Weasley.

Shaking his head, he stared off at his ceiling, his mind inadvertently going to thoughts about her. She was…well, he'd thought she was a push-over. She had a gentle grace to her that always made him think she was weak and timid; yet he'd seen from her earlier replacement of him that she was most certainly adept. Her silent strength and the way she so calmly stopped him from molesting her and flipped him onto his back, pinning him down effectively for a rather short thing. She was already built like a woman and every time he looked at either her body or her face he noticed just how femininely mature she was. It was rather attractive actually; he found his eyes skating over her full curves hungrily compared to the unimaginative stick-thin figures.

She was driving him nutters.

She haunted his dreams; images of that full face taunting him with those delicate lips and soft eyes; eyes that turned razor-sharp whenever she spoke to him, he noticed. The woman was a carefully counterbalanced individual; for every clumsy misstep there was an elegant certainty in her movements, for every scathing glare at him there was an understanding smile to someone else, for every caustic remark there was a tender embrace. She was a mixture of opposites blending so perfectly together.

He hated her so vehemently.

…………………………………………………

If Dumbledore was at all surprised that four individuals randomly appeared from out of thin air in his office, he showed no signs of it. He rose from his desk and smiled at his newly arrived guests.

"Mr. Zabini, Ms. Parkinson, Ms. Weasley." He nodded to each, smiling gently at Ginny as she shifted Evangel over in her grasp. Blaise tucked away his invisibility cloak as Pansy edged closer to him.

"Please do have a seat. I imagine there must be something important for the three of you to come down at this time at night like this." He said, taking his seat as the others did the same, Ginny placing the baby on her knee.

It was Pansy who took the initiative to speak. "Sir, I'd like to have a word with you about my current lodgings." Ginny hid a smirk at the formality of her statement. It was so unlike the Pansy she had come to know and like.

Dumbledore expressed concern. "Is there something wrong with your rooms?" he asked, glancing briefly at Blaise. Pansy shook her head. "You misunderstand me. I wish to move my residence back into the Slytherin dungeons."

It could have been the overactive imaginations of all three of them there, working in tandem for reasons unknown, but it seemed to them that Dumbledore's eyes twinkled joyously.

"Oh really? Well, I must say, that would be quite a move. There is still the matter of your child…Ms. Weasley will find your move a terrible inconvenience…" he trailed off. Ginny nodded thoughtfully. She hadn't thought it would be possible.

"Then again, it would strengthen house bonds…" Dumbledore mused to himself. The trio listened with bated breath. "I will have to think on it. For now, Ms. Parkinson, is everything to your liking?" Pansy nodded, standing. "Perfect."

"I will be in touch with you on this matter soon."

They all knew a dismissal when they heard one. Dumbledore watched them disappear under Blaise's invisibility cloak once more. Dumbledore watched as the door to his office opened and closed. He steepled his fingers together in front of his face, a grin on his lips.

"Perfect."

…………………………………………………

Hermione had finally managed to wave off the swarms of elves that had surrounded her hesitantly at first, and then avidly, and was just now settling down to eat her long-awaited dinner. Her fork fell from her hand as the door slammed open, admitting the two very, very inebriated wizards that stumbled into the kitchens.

Hermione's oh-so-clever brain took a moment to register what she was looking at. "Harry? Colin?" Harry grinned back at her, a rather lopsided grin. "Hullo Hermione." He was only slurring slightly; not bad for someone in the state he was in. Colin merely nodded.

A rather courageous-looking house elf wearing green shorts and a type of over-shirt hurried to the two boys.

"What can Mobey be doing for Mister Potter, sir?" he glanced at them and hesitantly added, "has Misters been drinking?" He looked so righteously horrified that Hermione made a show of dropping her knife loudly.

"Oops. Sorry. Excuse me, but would it be possible for you to get my friends some water? I don't think they're feeling too well." She hated asking things of the house elves, but she'd been happier about their status ever since Dumbledore gave them full summers off if they so chose.

The house elf bowed his head so much that his nose brushed the ground.

"Yes, Missus. Right away." And he sped off, leaving Hermione to deal with the two boys. Harry seemed to realize the death sentence was coming and he braced himself for it.

It never came.

Hermione slumped back in her chair, too tired to deal with things. For once she would be irresponsible and for once she would let things slide; that much she told Harry and Colin as they stumbled into some chairs.

"But," she told them "if you ever so much as look at a drop of anything remotely alcoholic during the rest of this school year, I will personally see to it that you serve detention scraping the insides of your livers off the Gryffindor common room ceiling, am I perfectly understood?"

Harry had goggled at her for a moment, as if seeing her in a new light. Suddenly his eyes went wide and he started beating at his head with his hand.

"Not you too!"

At which point Hermione decided maybe she needed to get drunk as well.

………………………………………………

Ginny rocked a sleeping Evangel quietly once they were back in Pansy's room. Blaise sank into a chair and closed his eyes. Pansy was asleep before she stumbled into bed.

Alone in the room with two unconscious Parkinsons, Ginny and Blaise held a comfortable silent agreement to be civil and friendly. Settling Evangel in her cradle, Ginny took the seat next to Blaise.

She curled up and draped her legs over the arm of the chair, cuddling a pillow to her chest. Her eyes were feeling heavy and she rested her cheek on her shoulder. "I'm glad you came back." She said sleepily. Blaise cocked an eyebrow and turned his full attention to the petite red-head. At that moment, she didn't look sixteen. She looked twenty. Blaise marveled at how ahead of everything she was. She knew things about people before they did, she knew things that no one else seemed to know…but most of all, she understood it.

A sudden thought popped into Blaise's head. She knew Potter. She was almost like a sister to him. He made a sudden decision. "You know I'm gay, right?" she didn't even bother opening her eyes. "Of course, but you do like girls as well, don't you?" She asked, though truthfully, she really wasn't sure how she got the strength to ask him that. Blaise stared, blinked and then smirked, ignoring her question. "Do you know if Potter is? Gay, I mean?" this time she did crack one eye open, her gaze turned curious. "I'm in no position to say…why do you ask?" she asked, hedging suspicion.

Blaise watched as loyalty parallel to that they had in Slytherin flared up in the girl. Blaise sighed, deciding that if he wanted any straight answers and help, he'd have to be…honest. The thought was repulsive…he was a Slytherin!

He took a deep breath. "I may be romantically interested in him… I've certainly been attracted to him for a long time. I thought perhaps he could be as well…but now I'm not sure." He added, almost regretfully.

Ginny was frowning to herself and Blaise wondered if perhaps he'd judged wrong. He certainly wouldn't be getting her help if she was still hung up on Potter. Ginny, on the other hand, was going over everything about Harry from the past couple of days. This would certainly explain the weird mood swings and why he tried asking her out when she knew he wasn't interested.

She turned a thoughtful gaze up to Blaise. He was watching her closely, and he seemed almost fearfully expectant. Ginny relaxed a little, a small smile working its way onto her face. "You have to understand that I can't answer you that question." She said gently, watching as Blaise's face fell. "However, if you want the answer, I suggest you ask Harry." Blaise looked up at her. She smiled once more, encouragingly. "But if you want my opinion…" Blaise looked decidedly interested. "…follow your hopes…and hope they're right."

She immediately fell asleep. Blaise was left staring at her, his jaw all but dropped. She was just a ball of surprises. Follow your hopes…fucking mind-reader…it was almost a pity he was gay…what a woman…

…………………………………………

Hermione decided it was time to go to bed when she lost count of the number of times she'd fallen off her chair. Opening her eyes and trying to avoid the sight of what looked like a game of strip chess, she shook her head one last time and willed the room to stop whirling around and turning interesting colours.

She was never drinking again.

"Harry…" she moaned, still holding her head like it was made of porcelain. Harry glanced over, his shirt halfway off. He had gathered several others, including a couple of Hufflepuff boys, Ravenclaw girls and a myriad of Gryffindors. "Wha?" he asked through the opening at the neck. Hermione grumbled and crawled over to him. "We've got to get back to the common room." She said, stringing words together quite coherently for feeling as if her head was about to implode, probably from the sight of Hannah Abbot in her bra and skirt.

Harry frowned slightly. "Oh…I forgot." Hermione's head was pounding too hard for her to wonder or care what the bloody hell he was talking about. "Getout." She muttered, pain exploding behind her eyes, as she pointed to the door.

Harry stood, fell, and stood once more, leaning on Colin for support as the group picked themselves up and made their ways out, however inebriated. Stumbling together, they obeyed Hermione and crashed through the portrait hole, heading back to Gryffindor tower and wherever the hell else they belonged. If they made it back to their common rooms without being caught, Hermione would start believing in miracles.

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking charge of her senses. "Alright, Hermione. It's about bloody time you got yourself back to Gryffindor tower, right? Right. Let's go."

Unfortunately for Hermione, her body obeyed while her feet decided they'd rather not, the result being she swayed forward for a second before falling flat on her face and knocking herself unconscious for some house elf to find in a few hours and nearly iron it's eyes out over the wretched sight.

Such dirty socks.

And so, when Hermione finally did wake up, it was on the hearth of the fire in the kitchens, with remarkably clean, sparkling white socks, persuading her to never, ever, ever again have a momentary lapse in judgement and agree to drinks with Harry.

Ever.

…………………………………………

Blaise's eyes snapped open. He was still in Pansy's room, so he supposed he must have fallen asleep. Ginny was still asleep, curled up in her chair, and Pansy was snoring softly in her bed.

All was relatively quiet, minus Pansy's snoring and a soft scraping sound. Blaise turned in his chair, wand in hand, as the door to the room slowly creaked open. Blaise waited for whoever was sneaking in to come in and close the door before whispering "Lumos".

Draco Malfoy started as a light suddenly glowed near the left corner of the room. He shielded his eyes with a hand. "Blaise?" he asked, making out the contours of his friend's face. Startled, it took him a moment to regain his speech.

"What the bloody hell are you doing he…re?" he paused as his eyes caught another figure on another chair. The long, auburn hair was a dead giveaway. His throat went dry as he traced the lines of her face and body. Gods…what was it about her that made him so crazy?

"We need to talk, Draco." Blaise said softly, pulling him out of his reverie. Draco immediately scowled. "No, you need to talk. I'm not above taking points from my own house. What, are you trying out girls for a change? Not quite the type I would have pinned for an easy shag, but then again, she is a Weasley." He sneered, watching Blaise's face go harsh. "Everything about them is easy."

"If I weren't afraid of waking her I'd curse your sorry arse into the next millennia, you great git." Blaise spat. He stood, grabbing Draco's arm as he hauled him out of the room. Shutting the door behind him, he turned to glare at the thin blonde man.

"There are some things I think you should know. Now, it's not my position to say them to you; that falls under Pansy's part, but I am warning you: leave Pansy and the Weasley girl alone. Stop bothering them…and if I hear you've so much said something bad about the Weaselette, I _will_ curse your arse into the next millennia and farther, right?" Draco yawned cockily. "Are you through, Zabini? I have rounds to do."

As he started off, turning his back to Blaise, he heard one last sentence before Blaise went back into Pansy's room.

"Watch your back, Malfoy…watch your back."

…………………………………………

Ginny yawned loudly as she woke, no longer able to stand the bright beams the sun was playing through her closed eyelids. Blinking out the remaining sleep, she sat up. She was still in Pansy's room, where she'd fallen asleep in her chair. She turned her neck to the side and it cracked. "Oi." She grumbled, rubbing the back of her stiff neck.

She stood and immediately grinned. On the table near the chairs was a steaming pile of breakfast foods and a note. She read the note as she took a bite of a bagel.

_Dear Ladies,_

_Good morning. Have a good breakfast. Meet me in library when you're done. Pomfrey will watch the kid. Try to be there by 11:00._

_-Zabini._

Short and to the point. So Slytherin. Minutes later, Pansy awoke and joined her for breakfast, casting a curious eye over the note and smiling a bit. "Wonder what he wants to talk about." Pansy mused, helping herself to some apple. "I guess about you moving back to Slytherin." Ginny suggested through a mouthful of bagel.

Pansy nodded thoughtfully. "I don't know how we're going to do this…" she trailed off, thinking. She'd thought making the decision would be the hard part…but now she was seeing that the difficult part would be actually moving back in. She'd have to find some way of passing Evangel through her regular routine.

"It shouldn't be too hard…" Ginny started. "I mean, all that's changing is where you are. Everything else is the same." Pansy looked up at Ginny, eyebrow arched. "You mean you'd be willing to come and get Eve from the Slytherin dungeons?" Pansy asked. Ginny tilted her head to the side, as if considering something.

"Unless that's a problem with any of the Slytherins, I don't see why not." She said thoughtfully. Pansy's smile dawned on her face. "That's brilliant!" a sudden thought came over her and her grin died. "But how are you going to get her back without someone seeing you?" she asked. Ginny frowned, biting her lip.

"I don't know…if Dumbledore agrees to this, I'm sure he'll come up with something." Ginny assured her. If Harry wasn't being such a flaming git, she'd ask to borrow his Invisibility Cloak. They finished breakfast together with pleasant chatter and soon enough were headed towards the library, having dropped Evangel off with Madame Pomfrey.

They were walking through the halls when another figure turned the corner ahead of them. Ginny nearly stopped completely, taking in the white-blonde head and identifiable swagger. As Malfoy looked up, Pansy turned to Ginny, a question in her eyes. Ginny merely shook her head and continued walking, even giving Malfoy a little nod of her head as she passed.

Pansy turned to glance at Malfoy once they'd passed. He was standing still, staring after them with parted lips and numb shock. Realizing Pansy was staring at him, he sneered, turned and went about his business.

They arrived in the library without any further incidents. Blaise was waiting calmly for them in a corner, a pensive frown on his lips. "Why the long face, Zabini?" Ginny asked merrily, plopping down in the seat across from him. Pansy exuded her natural Slytherin-ness and sank gracefully into the chair beside Blaise.

"Draco." He said vacantly. Pansy growled, her lip twitching up in a snarl. "Isn't he always at the base of all problems? He is, after all, devil-spawn." She spat. Ginny snorted. "I'll second that last statement." She added cynically. She had never forgiven Lucius Malfoy for the incident in her first year. Some wounds just never healed, no matter how much time caressed them.

Blaise frowned again. "Listen, I know he's being a bastard, but you can't really lay the blame directly at his feet. He didn't have an easy time growing up, especially with Lucius." Pansy broke in with a scoff. "Come on, Blaise. Don't play that card, not with me. _None _of us have had easy times growing up. Not me and not you, and look at how differently we turned out. I know a lot of it has to do with our parentage, but some of it has to do with who we are and Malfoy is a spoiled little arrogant prick, and you know it. Don't you dare make excuses for him, friend or not. Not to me." She added the last with a bitter whisper.

Blaise glanced down, holding his tongue because he knew, beyond the friendship he had with Malfoy, that she was right. To a degree. Malfoy had not had an easy life and Blaise was sure most of who he was (the narcissistic son-of-a-bitch part) was just a mask. Blaise had been tying to break through that mask for years without success. Draco needed someone, and it was obvious it wasn't Blaise.

Ginny's hand found its way to Pansy's, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Pansy welcomed the soothing touch after a moment's stiff hesitation. Blaise watched with interest. His eyes went to hers, looking at them. There was so much caring in those eyes…so much to give.

It was then that the idea sparked in his head. Looking back, years later, Blaise would both curse and bless that idea. The decision that idea spawned would haunt him for a long time…but little good does regret do, as we can never see far ahead enough to prevent our mistakes.

Unaware of the events that his one innocent decision would make in the future, Blaise made it quite easily. Besides, how much harm could pairing a Malfoy and a Weasley do? Okay, bad question. Really, _really_, bad question…

Blaise shook his head, thinking that perhaps jinxing the thing before it got started would defeat the purpose. Blaise glanced up as something red came through the library doors. Ginny turned in her seat and immediately shrunk away as her brother came storming towards her.

Pansy turned and watched, much as Blaise was, in interest. Ron stomped over to Ginny, red-faced. "Where is that red-headed menace friend of yours?" he gritted out, seeming very agitated about something. Ginny cocked her head. "Hart? I don't know. Last I saw her, she and Hermione were talking in the common room. Why?" she asked curiously.

Ron seemed to go even redder. "Because right now there are two unconscious Gryffindor sixth and seventh year boys in my dormitory who are going to wake up with one hell of a hangover unless I can find Hermione to make them a potion. And since lately the girl's never more than a foot away from your friend, I figured she'd be the easiest way to find her." Ginny arched an eyebrow at Ron. "Ron, why do you depend on Hermione so much? You know I can make a hangover potion in seconds, I grew up with six older brothers. Yet you never ask me for anything like that." She sniffed as if affronted.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Bloody fecking…" he mumbled, in what was supposedly under his breath. "…fine. Ginny, help me out and make some Sobering Solution, will you?" Ginny smirked gleefully, nodding. "No." she said, quite chipper, and turned her back to Ron, grinning madly at Pansy.

Pansy bit her lip hard as she watched the older Weasley go several interesting colors. "But…you…but…wha…I…" he spluttered as Ginny broke down into silent laughter. Pansy shook her head in amusement and stood. "Come on Weasley, I'll help you make some hangover potion." Ron went sheet white, Ginny cocked her head so fast her neck cricked and Blaise's eyes bugged, popped out and rolled somewhere under the table. Pansy arched first one eyebrow, then the other.

Ginny was the first to recover. While Blaise was searching for words and his eyes, she cleared her face of the glazed, shocked expression and turned to Ron, who was looking increasingly and frightfully white. "Good idea. Ron, Pansy's great with potions…she can help you make some." Blaise shook himself out of his reverie. "Yeah, Pansy's brilliant. She was always the one to go to if you needed a hangover potion…actually, come to think of it, she was the one to go to when you needed a hangover…" Pansy swiftly kicked him under the table, with the most innocent face on that it was passed off as a freak accident.

Ron turned his sheet-white face to Blaise as if noticing them for the first time. He immediately went from pale to red. "What the ruddy hell do you think you're doing _traipsing_ around with Slytherins? And Zabini and Parkinson! What were you thinking?" he bellowed, apparently forgetting the two Slytherins in question were both present. Ginny slouched in her chair, arms folded rebelliously over her chest. "Bonus points for good word usage." She muttered under her breath. "And I was thinking that I was going to spend some time with tolerant people with jut the tiniest sense of humour who treat me with a smidgen of respect and not like some five year old." She glared daggers at Ron.

Ron paled slightly; he'd been on the receiving end of far too many of her hexes to push her when she was stubborn like this. He'd figure out something reasonable to do later…like tie her up, steal her wand and force her to listen to his 'concerned older brother' spiel.

Having won that specific war, Ginny smirked to herself and winked at Pansy, who had to turn her head to the side and bite back laughter at the look on Ron's face. Ginny tilted her head slightly, pausing to think. "Wait…who got smashed? I thought you and Harry were the only seventh year Gryffindors who knew the way to the kitchens…" she trailed, eyeing Ron expectantly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "It was Harry. He and Colin came staggering into the dorm last night, drunker than hell, and collapsed individually. And when I say 'drunker than hell', I don't say it flippantly." He warned, grimacing as he recalled Harry's snort jubilee. He shuddered.

Ginny nodded as Pansy gathered her things and left with Ron. Ginny turned back to Blaise, arching an eyebrow in an all-too-Slytherin fashion. Blaise was staring off into the distance, a frown on his face.

"Spill." Ginny stated calmly. Blaise's gaze jerked up to meet hers, a question in them. "Are you sure you weren't supposed to be in Slytherin?" Ginny stiffened. "Not entirely." She said easily, shrugging her shoulders. Blaise gave her one last searching look.

"I know you won't say anything about him, but is there anything between Potter and Creevey?" Ginny glanced up at the hint of jealousy in his voice. "Nothing I know of." She said vaguely. If Blaise didn't like her so much, he would have hexed the nearly-undetectable sauciness in her voice. It was something he was used to from his dealings with Draco.

"Fine." He spat, only slightly angry. Ginny merely grinned at him. The doors to the library opened yet again and Ginny turned in her seat, half-expecting to see either an enraged Ron or a disgusted Pansy. However, to see a complacent Draco Malfoy was not high on her expectations list.

Blaise's eyebrows drew down over his eyes as he watched a pulse speed up and beat violently under the suddenly pale skin of Ginny's neck. Colour drained from her cheeks as Malfoy swaggered up to the table Ginny and Blaise were at.

Silver eyes skated over Ginny almost hungrily and she quickly glanced away, blood pounding in a steady column up her neck and into her head. Draco smirked to himself and turned his gaze over to Blaise, who was eyeing him disapprovingly.

"Hullo Blaise…have you seen my Potions essay? You said you were going to look over it the other day. Do you still have it?" Ginny calmed as he began to ignore her presence. Blaise bit his lip thoughtfully. "I think I left it back in my dormitory. Do you want to come with me and fetch it?" Ginny nearly screamed as Draco's eyes flickered over her again, seeking out hers. "No, I think I'll stay here." He said, gaze not leaving hers.

Ginny turned pleading eyes up to Blaise, begging him to do something, anything. He shrugged apologetically and stood. "Right. Well, just wait here, will you?" Blaise said aloud. Ginny thought she was going to faint even as Blaise stopped by Draco to whisper something in his ear.

As Blaise left the library, Ginny heard the scraping of a chair's legs against the floor next to her. Her breathing shallowed and sped as she felt Malfoy take a seat next to her. She squeezed her eyes shut in hopes that he would disappear if she wished him away.

The voice that stirred hairs on her neck and tickled the strands of auburn at her temple proved her thoughts otherwise. "Hello, Gryfflette."


	14. Too Much Time on My Hands

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Long and pointless and tragic and worthless and not worth explaining.

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine if it belongs to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter Fourteen: Too Much Time On My Hands

* * *

**

Hermione's eyes flickered open.

"Bugger!"

Hermione's eyes flickered closed.

It did nothing to block out the inkling of sunlight, so disgustingly cheerful and _bright_ as it managed to fight its way through tons of rock and stone for the sole purpose of piercing her very brain with a mixture of malevolent joviality and the alcohol left over in her bloodstream.

"Unnnhhhh" Hermione groaned, rolling over in her bed.

However, it seemed her bed wasn't there, and she consequently fell to the floor with a bang. "Bloody buggering…" she hissed, massaging her backside, her eyes still squeezed desperately shut.

"Is Misses awake?"

Hermione winced; sometimes she just wished house elves had voices a couple bajillion octaves lower…apparently the desire increased when she had a hangover.

"Well, I'm not dead, if that's what you're asking." She grumbled, somewhat less than cheerful after her first real encounter with alcohol. Strike that, her last real encounter with alcohol.

She rolled over and attempted to stand with little success. "Miss should be leaving soon; breakfast will be served and house elves will need room to work, please miss." She could almost see the nose scraping the floor.

She sighed and stood, opening her eyes just a fraction of a second too late, which she realized another fraction of a second too late as the floor rose to greet her like an old friend.

"Oh, yippee."

…………………………………………………

Ron had been eyeing Pansy covertly out of the corner of his eye as they walked side-by-side down the hallway for quite some time now. He figured if he could stare at her long enough, he'd figure her out. He narrowed his eyes in concentration. Pansy finally rolled her eyes and turned to him, still striding on. "What?" she asked testily.

Ron jumped back, in a startled motion that rendered him very much like a frog. Pansy found it vastly amusing. "What do you mean, 'what'?" Ron asked in what he assumed was an innocent voice. Pansy merely rolled her eyes again.

"Don't play coy with me, Weasley. You've been staring me down, supposedly inconspicuously, for the past five minutes and I want to know why." Pansy stated, somewhat moodily.

Ron gaped at her like a fish. Pansy found this even more amusing. Wondering just how many wild animals she could get the boy to imitate in their time together, Pansy stared him down.

Ron's eyes widened and he cowered away from her…resembling a mouse. So much for Gryffindor bravery. Pansy was in inner hysterics. "What- I- you-I just- what do want from me?" Ron finally yelled, throwing his hands over his face as if she would attack him. She just rolled her eyes again and continued walking as if this was a normal occurrence.

Eventually Ron followed and caught up to her, mostly out of curiosity. "Are you friends with my sister?" he asked suddenly. Pansy snorted. "Does any Gryffindor, besides your sister of course, have a shred of tact?" she asked, somewhere between amazement and annoyance.

Not quite sure of anything, especially if this was a valid question validating a response, what that response should be, and where exactly his socks were, Ron gave out the first thing that leapt to his mind.

"No."

………………………………………………

Ethereal light of pure brilliance glanced off the shining dagger as it plunged into his head.

"Aaaaaaarrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh!" Colin screamed as he squeezed his eyes shut again, fisting his hands at his burning visual parts as the white-hot pain of the dreaded dagger Hangover settled in his head quite comfortably.

From somewhere to either his right or left, a twin moan of agony rose. Ah good, Harry was up. Now they could suffer together.

"Aaaarrrggghhhhh-ow."

Sobs erupted in the Gryffindor boy's dorm room that could have put Evangel to shame.

……………………………………………

Blaise was torn between dawdling absent-mindedly and racing madly. It all depended on what was happening in the library. On one hand, Draco and the Weasley girl could be spending bonding time together while Blaise was gone. On the other hand, Draco could be molesting the Weasley girl. In which case he figured he should begin planning where the flowers should go in Draco's funeral.

An old warning Narcissa Malfoy had told him one popped into his mind. Something about not playing with fire…that girl was fire in every way. Beautiful, warm, life-saving, and most definitely dangerous. He thanked every god and goddess that she wasn't in Slytherin. Had she been, there would have been hell to pay. Slytherin did things to wizards. Made even the sweetest hard and cold. Pansy was a testament to that.

And thus Blaise was alternately running like a centaur and slithering like a…well, a Slytherin…aha…now that made sense…

During one of his running around like a Hippogriff-with-its-head-cut-off-(Draco had coined that one)-intervals, he ran into something quite certainly not stone, armor, or transparent. It was fleshy and squeaked as it hit the floor. He looked down.

"Uh…hullo." He said.

…………………………………………………

Ginny's eyes widened in an almost, but not quite fearful way. She gave up trying to pretend Malfoy wasn't there…it most positively wasn't working, as his breath was stirring the hair near her ear and making her want to squirm. But she wouldn't squirm. That would be too…un-Weasley-ish, too un-Gryffindor-ish…too…girly.

She turned in her seat, her breath trapped in her stomach and regarded him coolly, if not affably. All in favor of awarding Miss Ginevra Weasley with Prize Actor of the Year…

Forcing a half (but not quite) smile onto her lips, Ginny nodded in acknowledgement. "Hullo Malfoy." She said, practically sweetly. Oh, she was going to hell for that one. If Malfoy was surprised, he didn't show it. Ginny had a sneaking suspicion that somewhere back in time, a Malfoy had decided there was no facial expression that was disdainful enough and requiring the smallest amount of exertion, and thus invented one.

It was with this identifiable smirk that Draco grinned back at her with. One that suggested not warmth and friendliness, but a superiority that made the receiver wish they had taken at least five baths that day.

Ginny ignored this, though made a mental note to start taking a shower every morning instead of every other. Stupid spotless smarmy Slytherin…

Keeping her thoughts to herself, she all but lunged for the nearest book on the table (101 Ways to Kill a Manticore) and pretended to immerse herself in the text whilst alternately avoiding the rather graphic pictures the book displayed so proudly.

"Oh, Gryfflette…I think you're trying to avoid me…" a voice tickled her ear. She resisted the urge to rub her ear on her shoulder and ruthlessly chased down and massacred the shivers crawling down her skin.

"Oi, Slyther-git, I do believe I am trying to read in peace." She said, not quite as testily as she would have liked. She wasn't a push-over but she wasn't suicidal either; she knew not to push a Malfoy too far. Repercussions were not pleasant. Although 'Slyther-git' might just be worth it.

A scoff ruffled the hair at her temple and she concentrated on the book, imagining it were Malfoy in the picture instead of a mutilated manticore. The thought made her happy. She felt horrible. She concluded it was all the stupid git's influential fault. She still felt happy. She consequently closed the book.

As she now had nothing else to do, she turned to the pointy-nosed ferret. "Did you want something?" She asked, almost curiously. Definitely going for Prize Actor of the Year…

An almost feral gleam accompanied the hungry grin that slipped onto his face. Ginny felt unwarrantedly frightened. "I would have thought that was obvious." He said suggestively. Ginny shuddered and stood, taking a couple of steps to the nearest bookshelf. She needed some distance from him.

She didn't get it. She heard the scraping of his chair's legs before she felt his breath on the back of her neck. "Why can't you just let me be?" she asked in near-tearful frustration, her cheeks warming as she clenched her hands at her sides.

Something brushed the exposed back of her neck (she was wearing an old, hand-me-down tee that Ron had stretched the neck out of) and she repressed a tremor. She moved away a second later as she realized it was his _lips_.

"Why do you run?" his words fell on her neck again and Ginny had the reoccurring wish that he would just leave her alone. "Why do you chase me?" she countered, trying to still her shaking hands. She was reaching up for a book on the shelf to have something to do with her hands when she felt something slide around her waist. Two somethings, which hugged her tightly to a third something.

She froze, arm extended in an almost pleading reach for the help her eyes were seeking as they widened. Time seemed to still and stretch in its frozen place, struggling to move on as though it were tethered with a rope of rubber. Ginny had the horrible sensation that it would eventually snap in her face.

Draco stood with his eyes closed, reveling in the feel of holding her body against his. He knew how it would feel. He knew it from his dreams…it would feel steadying, as if it were some sort of anchor to latch onto in a tumultuous storm on a rough sea. It felt right and snug, as if every joint they had were designed with the eventual purpose of fitting into each other, like the locking of some puzzle pieces. And it felt warm, as if she really were made of the fire that burned from somewhere in her.

A flash of one of his many dreams of her danced before his eyes…an image of her sprawled out in his sheets, the green of the silk beneath her making her pale skin hum and her hair glow…

He'd stopped caring about the fact that he was having these feelings for a Weasley when he realized that it was what he wanted, and (revoked or not) he was by birth a Malfoy and Malfoys got what they wanted.

Leaning down as though to prove this to himself, or the ever-present voice in his head that was his father, he rubbed his lips gently over the bare skin that joined her neck to her shoulder.

He could feel her tense in his grasp, her muscled bunched together, all tightly bound in her as though they were all trying to recoil from his touch. He had a sudden, strange thought that were it not for her skin, her insides would go in a thousand directions at once, if only to get away from him.

Just as he didn't care about anything but having her, he didn't care if she wanted or even liked him. She was his and he would make sure everyone knew it, including her. She would just have to deal with having him around, because he wasn't leaving.

Yet.

………………………………………………………

"This way, idiot. Don't you even know the way to your own Potions class?"

Ron nearly glared at Pansy, the only thing keeping him from doing so was the fact that he wasn't entirely sure she wouldn't beat him to a pulp or curse him into the next century. Slytherins were disconcerting.

"Unlike you, I don't have high favor with the Almighty Severus Snape. Thus, Potions is hell. Ergo, I try to forget everything about that class when not in it, including its location!" he smirked to himself under the incorrect impression he had won this battle and feeling very smug indeed.

Pansy merely snorted. "Perhaps if you actually attempted to retain the information Snape teaches you, you wouldn't find the class so horrible." She snapped. Ron turned to her, following her to what was undoubtedly the Potions classroom.

"Hermione knows everything in that class, and still Snape hates her." He pointed out. Pansy rolled her eyes. "One-the Mud-" she stopped herself, mentally edited her statement, and continued "-Granger memorizes the information, she doesn't take it in. She can quote anything from a book but when it comes to the practical uses, she won't have a clue." Ron nodded absently to himself, recalling the incident in their first year with the Devil's Snare and the fire…

"And two…she's annoying." Pansy stated, redeeming herself as a Slytherin. Ron really did glare at her. "Hang on…don't go about sputtering off what Malfoy says just to repeat him like some mimicking parrot. You don't know Hermione, so I suggest you do get to know her before making any judgment on her."

Pansy was abnormally quite after that, and the silence continued all the way to the Potions room.

……………………………………………………

Hermione glowered irritably up at the very, very, very tall figure in front of her. She would have said something scathing (or her idea of), but she couldn't focus on the person long enough to figure out who it was.

"Buggerfucker." She murmured, feeling quite good with herself. Someone chuckled above her and suddenly large hands were lifting her up to her feet, if unsteadily. "My, my, my…who knew Miss Know-It-All-Mudblood had a rebellious side?"

Hermione tried to place the voice…it was undoubtedly Slytherin, yet surprisingly not Malfoy. A gear clicked. "Damn you Zabini, just go bugger off." She may or may not have added 'you twitchy little fop', but if she did, it was the alcohol talking.

Blaise looked almost amused as he took in her bedraggled appearance and unsteady posture. One look at her eyes and he was trying not to laugh. "My, my, my. It seems Creevey and Potter weren't the only ones getting shit-faced last night. What's the matter, Granger? Studies getting too monotonous? Or were you researching first-hand the effects of alcohol on the young mind and body?"

Hermione thought he sounded merely interested, but he was Slytherin, so she knew there was mockery somewhere in there. "Zabini, unlike you, I don't drink whenever I get bored and have nothing else to do, because unlike you I have activities that engage my time efficiently. You may spend your hours partying until you vomit blood, but I find that there are more interesting things to do with my time…things I might actually remember in the morning."

Blaise snorted. "It's a bit hypocritical of you to be condemning we few alcoholic Slytherins when it appears that you self-righteous Gryffindor bastards 'engage' in the same detrimental activities. You're hungover and preaching to me about how immoral drinking is. A little naïve I think, don't you agree?"

Hermione groaned, putting a hand to her head. "If I say yes, will you shut up and fuck off?" Blaise let out a laugh. "Good lord. You're almost bearable when you're drunk. I'll have to make a note of that."

"You'll have to get out of my bloody way first."

"I didn't hear a request in that statement, let alone a decent one."

"So sorry. Get the fuck out of my way, you sodding prick, before I throw up all over your expensive Italian-thread robes. Better?" she smiled sweetly, shoving past him and continuing on to the Great Hall. Maybe if she found Ginny she could coerce the girl into making her a hangover potion.

"I'd suggest looking in the Potions room."

Hermione turned, almost tripping over her feet as they continued to move on without her knowledge. "What?" she growled, clutching her head again. Blaise was slouched against a wall, looking smug and Slytherin. "Your red-headed buddy and Pansy are there making hangover potions. I suggest you go now before they tidy up and leave you without someone to make you a brew for yourself."

Deciding not to ponder why a Slytherin arse might be helping her, she waved him off and stalked in the opposite direction, towards the Potions room, Ginny, Pansy, and blessed, blessed headache relief, sending Blaise a very, very rude hand gesture behind her back.

Blaise died laughing.

……………………………………………………

Snape glanced up from his desk as someone knocked at his door, hastily shoving the glasses he'd been wearing into his front pocket. There was no way in America (hell) he was going to let _anyone _(faculty or students) know he needed glasses to read. Especially his students' papers. Especially certain know-it-all annoying students' papers who wrote practically out of the book every single fact imaginably linked to the topic asked for in microscopic handwriting.

"Come in." he said gruffly, waving his wand to open the door to his classroom.

Velixandre Odekerk strolled into his room as if she had been the interior decorator. Actually…Snape "accidentally" elbowed a potted geranium off his desk. Much better.

Velixandre didn't wait for Snape to start any games. Without waiting for permission, she flung herself gracefully into the chair across from his desk. She sat back, eyeing him almost malevolently.

He glared right back at her, animosity crackling between them. Velixandre finally broke the silent staring spell. "So, Severus…" she stated. "Velixandre…" Snape spat back. Velixandre leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

"We meet again." she whispered bitterly.

……………………………………………………

Time had reached its stretching point. With a fearful snap, the bindings holding it in place momentarily were gone and it lashed back, knocking Ginny out of her frozen state, before continuing on in its regular course as if nothing had ever happened.

"Malfoy…" she said, finally coming to her senses. She felt him exhale onto her shoulder. "Please get your slimy hands off me immediately." She said calmly, staring straight ahead at the book in front of her, trying to ignore the fact that Malfoy still had his arms around her waist and was currently…_licking!_...her shoulder.

Draco drew the tip of his tongue lightly over the skin of her shoulder, pressing his lips occasionally to an oddly-placed freckle, of which there were dozens spread out across her back.

"Why?" he asked lazily, breathing warm air onto her neck before gently nipping at the pale skin there. She felt her stomach jump and for a moment she was afraid she was going to be sick. The world started spinning and shaking around her and she took a step back…right into him. His arms wound tighter around her, almost possessively.

Struggling to breathe through the hazy panic that surrounded her, Ginny gulped silent breaths of air, trying to still the world as it fell into chaos. Malfoy was kissing her. He was holding her gently. It was almost sweet, were it not for the fact that a Malfoy was not to be trusted, especially not about having noble intentions. Somewhere Ginny was going to get hurt if this kept on and she tried desperately to swim to the surface of the confusion that was drowning her.

"Why?" Draco repeated, spanning his hands across her slightly rounded stomach. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, the muscles in her arms and stomach launching into spasms. A thought managed to fight its way valiantly through her jumbled emotions.

"Because I hate you."

…………………………………………………

"Aaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggghhhhhhhh-gasp" Colin took a deep breath and was about to finish moaning when a sudden questioning thought came to his painfully pounding mind.

"Aarrrrggghhhh…" Harry droned on, breaking into Colin's train of thought. Colin decided he didn't like that. "Harry-" "-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrr-" "Harry, look, we-"-rrrrrrggggggggggggghhh-" "Harry, would you-"-hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-" "HARRY, SHUT YOUR RUDDY GOB!" Colin screamed, doing his own head in.

Harry stopped, blinked several times, and turned to Colin, massaging his temples. "What?" he asked hoarsely. Colin voiced his thought aloud.

"Why are we screaming?"

"Because my head hurts!" Harry complained, holding his head delicately between his hands.

"Doesn't screaming just make it hurt more?"

Harry seemed to ponder this, his eyes going in and out of focus as he rubbed his temples. Colin stared expectantly at him, his own head beginning to pound as if a dragon were stomping around in it.

"Good point." Harry muttered, before diving back into his bed and groaning rather loudly and pathetically again. Colin soon joined him.

…………………………………………………

Snape nodded his head, still staring silkily at the tragically beautiful woman across from him, glaring at him with all the hatred in the world. A sharp stab of emotion, which he might have classified as regret, slashed through him.

"How long has it been, Severus?" Velixandre asked coldly, regret and anger equally prominent in her hard-as-nails voice.

"Four years." Snape said heavily, sounding ages older than he really was. Given that kind of tone, you'd never have thought he was only thirty-eight. He sounded near on to fifty. Velixandre seemed not to notice it…or if she did, she ignored it ruthlessly.

"Four _long_ years." She said bitterly, leaning even closer, her head hovering over his desk. Her eyes flashed angrily. "I haven't heard from you in four years." She said, pushing away the ignorant tears that came to her eyes. "You never returned any of my owls. They all came back with their letters. Why? You left me alone with that bastard when I needed you the most. You wouldn't even come down for my wedding." She sniffed, swearing she wouldn't cry.

Snape sneered. "As if _I_ would attend _your_ wedding." He sniffed derisively. "Besides, I highly doubt we were on speaking terms at that point. You went rather cold when you started seeing that…bastard…as you so appropriately call him. He died, didn't he?" he asked suddenly, the same anger and resentment welling in him.

"So, did you kill him?" he queried. "Murder in his sleep, isn't that your style? Non-confrontational and the likes?" he would have gone on, but a single tear fell painfully slow down Velixandre's cheek. His harsh gaze softened slightly and he stood, wandering around to the side of her chair.

He kneeled down by the arm of her chair. Velixandre was staring dully at the floor. "I thought I loved him." She said quietly. "I was wrong. I made a mistake. All I ever wanted from you was forgiveness." She stared up at him, her face a mask save for the tears that threatened to spill in her eyes.

"But you refused to even talk to me." He put a hand out and held her cheek in the palm of his hand, sadness sweeping over him as he noticed the tired, painful lines etched under her eyes that hadn't been there before.

"I missed you, Vel." Snape said truthfully. Velixandre looked up at him, hope glimmering in her teary eyes. She sniffed. "Really?" she asked. Snape nodded, his hand running up to stroke her hair as he had done once upon a time.

"Really." He assured her, leaning in.

Just as their arms were wrapped firmly around each other in a rather innocent, yet heartfelt hug, the door to Snape's classroom swung open.

"What the bloody blazes…?"

……………………………………………………

Draco Malfoy was severely puzzled, for several reasons.

Point one: he was a ladies' man.

Girls utterly adored him. He'd been through all the houses (even Gryffindor…eeww) and had dated, kissed, and shagged girls from each. He was suave, he was handsome, he was sharp, he was intelligent, he was great on a broomstick and even better in the sack.

Point two: he was being painstakingly gentle with the Weasley girl.

He resisted his natural urge to just jump her, as he had that one night. Instead, he was trying out this rather new idea of being gentlemanly and…well…gentle. Ah, that was why they were called gentlemen…mystery number 34 solved…

Point three: she didn't want him.

This was by far the most incomprehensible of all three points, owing to the fact that it totally obliterated the sense made in points one and two. She should have conformed to point one and been drooling all over him. And if she hadn't been before, she should have after deeply contemplated tactics of point two.

Yet she was setting up her own little powwow in point three and being uselessly and stubbornly non-attracted to him. This was not good and would not be tolerated.

Now all he had to do was to convince her of that.

……………………………………………………

"_Because I hate you."_

Ginny waited in silence, hoping he would let her go, or yell at her and let her go, or hit her and let her go. Anything was better than holding her like this. It was so bitterly ironic and twisted that she wanted to cry. She'd dreamed since she was a little girl of someone she loved holding her like this and kissing her as softly and honestly lovingly as Malfoy had been doing.

The ironic part was that a) it was Malfoy and b) he was most likely doing it because he hated her, not because he was in love with her…actually, strike the 'most likely' part out. He definitely was doing this because he hated her.

"Why?" Draco finally managed to ask, not letting her budge away an inch. Ginny nearly whimpered in frustration. "Because it's not real and I want it to be." Ginny blurted, knowing and not caring that she was making absolutely no sense whatsoever.

Draco stared down at the front of her chest, watching her breathing speed and slow almost rhythmically. With a start, he realized it was the pattern his own heart was beating, a beat of fast-paced matched with slow-paced.

"Who says it can't be?" he asked, tearing his eyes from her chest and glancing at the profile of her face. He watched as she squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lip almost angrily.

"You did. You always have. You're doing this to spite me and I don't want you to. I don't want you because you hate me. And I hate you. That's just how things are supposed to be. That's how they are."

He turned her around to face him with infinite gentleness that Ginny was surprised he even knew how to exhibit. He tilted her face up to look at his. Her eyes were dark and shining with tears, but it just made Draco even more captivated. The familiar tension she caused wound up in him.

"Maybe I've changed." He suggested, unable to look away from her amazing eyes. Those beautiful eyes closed painfully. "Maybe you haven't." Ginny said slowly, quietly. She pulled away as far as Draco's grasp on her waist allowed.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy. You know I can take you on in a duel and I will if I have to. I'd rather not. It's stupid. That's my brother's job. I just want you to go away and go back to tripping me in the hallways and knocking me down and kicking me in Quidditch matches, alright? And I'll go back to hating your sorry little arse."

Draco leaned down until his face was mere inches from hers, showing immense restraint. Her lips were so dreadfully close. He waited for her to open her eyes, holding onto her as she tried to jump away in shock at having him so close.

"Listen. I don't know what you've done to me, or what's going on, but I will have you. I want you and I want to be near you. I want to hold you and kiss you and make you breathe my name. I want you by my side, I want you in my arms, I want you in my bed. But most of all, I want you. And I will have you, like it or not." Ginny shivered repulsively through most of his little speech, and did so now as he loomed even closer.

"So I suggest you learn to like it." He said, not unkindly, which was surprising. As if to prove his point, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Ginny felt the final barriers breaking as first one, then several hot tears streamed down her face.

It was wonderful. But it was hatred. It wasn't love. She would do well to remember that. It was a hatred that pulsed instead of a love that burned…but it felt so nice, to feel cherished and wanted, as though she actually were beautiful and delicate.

She started to cry harder as his arms tenderly encircled her waist. She couldn't cope with this. This horrible, damning gentility made her want to cry and laugh and scream all at once. It would have been so much easier if he had been rough and demanding, as he had been that one night.

That though, accompanied with the horrid image of him pushing himself on her brought her back to her senses. She pulled away with more difficulty than was expected. His arms brought her up short a mere arm's length away.

She turned a frightened face up to him, her cheeks flushed and tears pouring down her face. She stared at him for a moment in horror, wondering how she could have even thought it was nice to be held by him.

"Oh gods. Why did you do that?" she whispered, a pained expression flashing through her eyes.

Something slashed her insides painfully and she nearly blacked out, a feeling of a mixture of electricity and white-hot magic burning through her insides with an unrelenting fury that nearly blinded her. She felt herself wanting to dive back into his arms, because for some reason, she felt it would make the hurt go away.

Struck speechless, and still stunned from the feel of having her lips pressed to his, Draco could only stare down at her dumbly.

In that single moment, a world opened up to him in her eyes. He saw her as she was meant to be seen; and she was absolutely gorgeous. He saw himself, holding her and kissing her and loving her. Not as he'd imagined it (a few spirited shags), but as she wanted her love to be; it was gentle and honest and true. And for a grasping moment, he held onto it, toying with the idea that he could fall in love with her if he let himself.

But it seemed that _she_ wouldn't let him. Pulling herself together and taking a steadying breath, she quickly ducked out of his arms before he could react. Nausea and dizziness swept through her as if she had broken something inside her, and as she grabbed her shoulder bag from the table, Draco's wits returned to him.

"Stop." He said, nearly shouting with the urgency that urged him to do something to keep her from leaving. Ginny ignored him, snatching up her bag and hurrying away. One of Draco's hands came up to grasp her wrist.

Ginny let out a muffled hiss as his well-manicured nails dug and seared into her skin, pulling her back to him. She panicked and ripped her arm from his iron grip. She felt as if he'd clawed some skin off her, but it didn't matter. It was better than the burning pain echoing through her arm.

With one final, trapped look, she pulled away, cradling her arm to her chest as she sped from the library, earning her a disapproving stare from Madame Pince. She collided with someone just at the doors, nearly falling in her haste. Before the person she'd bumped into could even apologize or begin to think of helping her, she was back on track and out of sight in seconds.

……………………………………………………

Pansy's jaw had dropped.

One of the main things that had been branded into the young, impressionable minds of the DeathEater children had been never to show emotion. Of any kind. Ever. It was considered weakness and one thing not allowed in Slytherin was weakness. No if you wanted to survive.

Nevertheless, Pansy's jaw dropped.

After all, Snape had been a DeathEater child and later a DeathEater himself (what interesting things you learn when you live at Hogwarts over the summer months), and there he was, holding their new, young, beautiful Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher as though his very life depended on it.

Ron was somewhere on the floor, unconscious.

Snape and Odekerk were apart in seconds, both calm, cool and collected, as if nothing had happened. For a moment, Pansy almost questioned it did. But then she caught sign of the telltale blush creeping up Odekerk's pale neck.

Snape looked as if he'd been asked to have Harry Potter's love child. He was definitely scowling as he asked Pansy what she wanted, and she blessed her lucky spirits that she was one of his favorite students. Otherwise things could have gotten ugly.

"I just need some potions, sir. I'm feeling a bit under the weather and I was going to brew myself a little something to make me feel better." Pansy lied fluently. She was, after all, not a Slytherin for nothing.

Snape arched an eyebrow pointedly at the inert figure of Ron Weasley lying on the ground. Pansy sighed. "He was supposed to come along and help." She rolled her eyes. Had Snape not been in such a foul disposition (which he always was), he might have chuckled. But then, he might not have.

"Weasley? Help you? Honestly, Miss Parkinson, if you needed someone to melt your cauldron why didn't you ask for Mr. Longbottom?" Pansy scoffed, giving Ron a swift kick in the ribs, wishing he was Snape.

Snorting a little, Ron woke. "What happened?" he asked rather groggily as Pansy helped him up and led him to the potions stores. "Nothing you want to re-experience." She growled.

……………………………………………

"Fuck."

"Shut up Harry."

"Make me, Colin."

A shoe sailed across the seventh year boys' dormitory, the swooshing sound it made as it flew followed by a heavy clunk and a somewhat satisfying thud of a falling body. Colin would have grinned as Harry moaned, clutching his already aching head, but his own was too sensitive.

"You bastard." Harry mumbled, as what felt like a major world war took place in his head, bombs and all.

"You get used to it." Colin hissed as he sat up, clutching his head as though it would fall off if not attended to properly. "I need some hangover potion." He muttered to himself.

"I need a casket." Harry's voice sounded from under his covers once again as a nuclear explosion rocked his brain in what it must have considered to be a playful manner. "I'm going to die," he whined. Colin murmured something about hurrying it up and Harry fell silent.


	15. Violent Whirlwinds and Hallway Encounter

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I don't know why I bother. So far, Draco is chasing Ginny for no particular reason. Blaise is semi-chasing Harry, whom he thinks is gay, but really isn't. Harry is sort of chasing Ginny, but is somewhat preoccupied. Hart was chasing after Hermione, but is now reconsidering and is for some reason no longer best buddies with Ginny. Colin and Odekerk are having a spat and there seems to be something between Snape and Odekerk. Pansy and Ron may end up killing one another, and who knows what the hell else is going on.

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine if it's good or belongs to J. K. Rowling

* * *

**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter Fifteen: Violent Whirlwinds and Hallway Encounters

* * *

**

Blaise watched in confusion as Ginny rushed past him, not even bothering to apologize for slamming into him. He'd caught a glance of a pained, tear-streaked face before she had vanished.

He stormed over to where Draco was standing, looking a little numb and quite a lot less arrogant and self-assured than normal. Blaise didn't care if the idiot suddenly had the self-esteem of a pickle jar. He shoved Draco back with one hand, glaring daggers at him.

"What did you do, you little shite?" he asked scathingly. Draco seemed to wake up. "Nothing!" he said, so honestly that Blaise blinked in astonishment and took a step back. "Then why did she run out of here crying? I gave you time with her, under the only conditions that you not hurt her or scare her. Making her cry qualifies as hurting her!"

To his astounded shock, Draco made a gesture that might have been the hanging of one's head in shame. Had Blaise not already died once that day, he would have done so now.

In seconds, that contrite, rarely seen Malfoy was gone. Eyes shooting silver fire, he glared up at Blaise. "So what if I hurt her? It's her fault for getting all wound up about this. I kissed her. So what? I was being nice to her and she freaked out. Not my fault!" he shouted stubbornly.

Blaise stared at his friend almost sadly. "You know, you could be so much happier if you just gave this up." Draco eyed him suspiciously. "Give what up?" he sniped. "This ridiculous bad-boy act you put on. You could have so much. You'd be happier, you'd have more friends. Hell, you could have _her_. But instead, you insist on being this great arse to everyone, including the girl you're falling in love with. That's no way to win her over, and you'd have a hard enough time doing so without any further complications on your part."

Draco glared at Blaise. "I am not falling in love with the Weasley chit. I like her body and I want to shag her. That's all. Malfoy's don't fall in love."

Blaise shook his head. "They could."

………………………………………………

"Where are the doxy wings?"

"I gave them to you."

"No you didn't, those were beetle wings."

"Same thing."

"Different species!"

Ron rolled his eyes and handed Pansy a jar of tiny, iridescent blue things. Pansy snatched it from him and grumbled to herself as she added a cup to the bubbling green mixture brewing in the cauldron Pansy had set up in the back of Snape's room.

Snape, and the highly embarrassed, yet rather composed Odekerk, had fled the room shortly after Pansy and Co. had set up camp, claiming a faculty meeting they were pressed to attend.

Pansy didn't buy it for a second.

"So…what do you wager's going on between our two dearest professors?" She asked for sake of conversation, still thinking of Snape's strange behaviour. "Something sexual, perhaps?" she quipped jokingly.

Ron's eyes went wide as bludgers. "McGonagall and Hagrid are having an affair!" he shrieked.

Pansy banged her head on the desk. Less agonizing than the severe pain of Ron's stupidity.

………………………………………………

Harry and Colin finally made their way down the stairs to the common room. Or rather, they made it half way down, Harry tripped, slammed into Colin, and the second half of the trip down was slightly faster and infinitely more painful.

"My head hurts."

"Shut up Harry. My whole bloody body hurts. Brilliant idea, that one; let's body slam our hungover mates down a flight of stairs! Why don't you just go right on and put your foot through my head?"

Harry's glare was somewhat less than scary, mostly due to the fact that he had a swollen eye (which just made him look demented and on some sort of hallucinogen), but partly due to the fact that he'd never been good at the whole intimidation thing.

He was about to say something daunting when something red ran through the portrait hole and nearly went right through him.

…………………………………………………

Ginny stopped just short of body slamming Harry into Bulgaria, a fact which greatly disappointed Colin, who would have found it vastly amusing and ghastly fun poetic justice.

Harry glanced down at the short little red head inches from his chest. Ginny's red head whipped up to look Harry in the face. Harry nearly recoiled. Her face was blotchy red from crying, and dried tracks of silver tears streaked her flushed face. Her beautiful brown eyes were wide and frightened, making her look entirely like a doe staring down a crossbow.

"Gin, what's wrong?" Harry asked, forgetting his headache for a moment as he held Ginny up gently by the upper arms. She seemed to shake and falter under his hands and for moment, Harry was afraid she would crumble into a thousand pieces. It was that fear that kept him from hauling her against him as tight as he could hold her.

Ginny's pale lips opened and closed several times, her eyes pleading with him for something he couldn't understand. "Can't…" she muttered incomprehensibly before shaking off Harry's grip and whirling out the way she'd come, slamming the portrait door behind her in her haste.

Harry and Colin raced after her as best they could in their state.

Once outside the portrait hole, they glanced around. Except for a disgruntled Fat Lady, the hallway was empty. Harry shook his newly-pounding head. "Ginny, Ginny…" he mused achingly, trailing after Colin.

………………………………………………………

Ginny ran on, not knowing where she was going, or quite frankly, why she was running. All she knew was that every sense, every cell in her being was telling her to get away. Not knowing what exactly she was running from, she fled from everything.

So naturally, when a pair of arms reached out and pulled her back into a corner, she lost it.

She gathered air into her lungs, ready to scream, when a large hand covered her mouth. "Shhh…calm down, Gryfflette." A startled voice sounded in her ear. Her pulse sped and she struggled even harder to get away.

"Will you quit kicking me, that hurts!" Ginny flailed her legs desperately. She felt a disgruntled scoff on the back of her neck before her feet left the ground. Her eyes widened over the hand that was covering her mouth.

Her feet dangled several inches off the ground as Malfoy literally swept her off her feet. "Now, will you relax?" the sarcastic part of Ginny laughed itself into hysteria at this. Relax. Ha. He was holding her, silencing her into submission in some dark corner.

Yeah, like she was going to relax.

After a quiet moment in which Ginny realized she couldn't kick him anymore, Draco set her down on her feet gently. His hand finally left her mouth. Ginny immediately drew in a breath to shout.

Lips cut her off. She screamed into Draco's mouth, her eyes widening again as he backed her up against a wall. Ginny felt tears building up in her chest cavity, making it difficult to breathe. As if it weren't hard enough with Draco practically devouring her.

But he was devouring her tenderly. She hated him for it; this sweet, covertly seductive gentility that could make her believe in anything if only to keep her mouth with his, to savor that moment where she could let herself pretend she was in love and vice versa.

She hated the fact that he made her want it to be that way.

His hands were moving softly down her sides, and she screamed inside her head for her stupid bloody slow body to do something while it still could…while it still had the willpower.

So she kneed him in the groin.

……………………………………………………

Snape glared at Odekerk.

She made a rather crude hand-gesture at him.

He scoffed. "You are so juvenile; you do realize that, don't you?"

Velixandre rolled her eyes as they rounded another corner, giving an especially evil glower to a portrait of a randy old wizard who was more than a little perverse. The portrait made a rude gesture with its hips at her.

She hexed a giant snake into the picture with the man. He screamed like a nancy boy. It ate him. She laughed. Snape smacked his forehead with his hand. Colin rounded the corner ahead of them. Harry stumbled behind him.

"What the…?"

The snake turned its attention from the half-digested man in its stomach to the little drama unfolding in front of it. Odekerk had gone dead white, Snape was eyeing Colin and Odekerk suspiciously, Colin was eyeing _Snape_ and Odekerk suspiciously, and Harry was standing by looking vaguely confused.

This would just be oodles of fun…

………………………………………………

"No, not that!"

Ron was suddenly and unexpectedly tackled from behind. As he hit the floor, something heavy and soft falling on top of him, the round bottle of black chips he was holding in his hand fell from his lack grip and clattered to the floor.

"Ow." Ron told the ground informatively as he stared at it mere nanometers away. Something smacked the back of his head. "You daft little bastard! Are you purposefully trying to kill us?" Pansy screeched, reaching for the bottle.

Ron turned around and Pansy rolled off him with a thud, cursing him repeatedly. They both stood and Pansy thrust the bottle into his face. "You stupid arse!" she screamed, poking him in the forehead with the bottle.

"Read the fucking label! As-pho-del bark!" she yelled, enunciating each syllable as she chucked the bottle at his head. "If you'd added that, the whole thing would have blown up in out faces!" growling, she stormed off to get the proper ingredients while Ron attempted to save face.

"All these bottles look the same, how was I supposed to know?" he whined. Pansy looked up from the large, very square vial that held a mauve-ish liquid, to give him an arched eyebrow stare. Ron colored and went back to fiddling with daisy roots to make it seem as though he were doing something important.

……………………………………………………

"Yes, Mr. Creevey? May we help you?"

Colin finally tore his gaze from Velixandre, who was looking terribly pale and guilty, to stare at his greasy-haired Potions teacher. Where Odekerk was slightly awkward in their meeting, Snape was, as always, calm and composed, save for the rather violent sneer he had on.

"No, sir." Colin said steadily, a tiny hint of bitterness in his voice as his eyes flickered from Velixandre's guilty face to Snape's practically possessive and challenging one. Velixandre's coal eyes rose to meet his fearfully. Colin's gaze set as a hardened one. "There's nothing you can do." He said harshly, his eyes never leaving Velizandre's.

………………………………………………………

Pain as he'd never experienced exploded through his body.

Draco broke his lips from Ginny's as his hands went to cup his front. In agony, he fell to his knees. Ginny watched in horrified fascination as he crumbled helplessly to the floor. He looked up at her, eyes wide and pained with blatant disbelief as he fell onto his side.

Ginny was torn between running and staying. It felt rather horrible and completely wrong to just leave him like this. But then, of course… she hesitated for a moment before she realized he was cursing and struggling to get back to his feet.

"You rotten little twit…" he growled, pushing himself up on his elbows. Ginny's eyes widened and she took a step back as Draco turned his face up to hers. His eyes were wild and strange, his face contorted in a mask of hatred and anger as his hair fell messily around his forehead. This was not the sweet, gentle man who had so tenderly caressed her and kissed her.

"What the bloody hell is your problem?" he spat, rising to his knees. Ginny took several steps back, terrified and yet guiltily fascinated at the same time. "I-I-…" she began to stammer before thinking better of it. She stood straight. "I warned you, Malfoy. I gave you a chance. I _told_ you to stay away from me. Maybe this time you'll listen, yes?" she shook her head once, defiantly, almost stamping her foot childishly.

Draco stood, still obviously in pain as he staggered towards her. "I've told you once already; you're mine. You will have to get used to having me around, because now I'm warning _you_; I won't just leave you alone. You belong to me." He said, the harshness he'd previously kept from his voice slowly creeping into it now.

Ginny's temper flared. "I belong to _no one_." She said, her voice strong and rich as it filled the halls around her. For a moment, Draco saw her as a towering pillar of strength, looming over him. She was a queen, magnificent in her glory, a goddess, splendidly flawless and sure.

Ginny's eyes flared as she proclaimed her freedom. She was no one's slave…that was the one thing she was adamant on, was her individuality. After the incident with Tom in her first year, she had always been afraid of someone taking control of her again. She most certainly wasn't going to allow Malfoy to do so.

Draco was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. He took a step closer to her, his eyes wide with wonder and awe as he took her in completely. "But you are. You are mine." He said, extending one hand. Ginny maintained her distance.

"No. I am not. And no matter what you say, no matter what you do, I never will be. You may catch me, you may kiss me, you may hold me, but you will never have me. I won't let you. Get this through your head; do what you may, but I belong to myself and only me."

With that, she turned, ignoring his outstretched hand, and whirled off.

………………………………………………

Harry and Colin bumped into Hermione on their way to the kitchens.

Literally.

"Why is it so hard for people to walk in their own areas! These hallways are not that narrow! You have plenty of room, use it!" Hermione exploded (as it seemed to Harry and Colin), quite randomly.

Harry stared at her, one eyebrow arched. Colin yawned, still holding his head. "Alright…" Harry drawled, looking on the whole part, rather excessively confused and confounded. "…er, hi Hermione. I'm Harry. Remember me? Best friend? Drinking buddy? Ringing a bell?" he waved a hand in front of a rapidly darkening Hermione's face.

She glared daggers at him. "Don't patronize me, Harry James Potter; I've missed eating, had to listen to six plus hours of god knows what from annoyance itself, been insulted and knocked on my arse twice today, not to mention still having an incredible hangover, which, by the way, you caused. If I were you, I wouldn't want to be. To be you and standing where you are right now is a health hazard, so I suggest you shut your gob and come help me make a hangover potion before I'm forced to kill you."

Her right eye was twitching slightly and she sounded so dead serious that Harry didn't say anything. In fact, he didn't do anything but follow Hermione as she stomped off rather petulantly.

…………………………………………………

Pansy was at her wits end. She had come to the point in her life where every person must choose a path to take…a decision to make…a choice to respond to. And she was having the hardest of times at making that decision.

Should she kill herself or Weasley?

At this point, suicide seemed the less painful option compared to spending a single more minute with the idiocy that was the youngest male Weasley. But then again, so did homicide. Decisions, decisions…

"So, wait…you're telling me Snape and Odekerk are having an affair?"

Homicide…definitely homicide.

Pansy removed her hand from her face, letting it drop heavily to the table. "No, I was just asking you if you noticed anything suspicious in their behavior." She rolled her eyes. "Obviously, I asked the wrong person…you wouldn't notice anything suspicious if it came up and did a strip tease for you."

Ron's ears rather perked, then pinked at the words 'strip tease'. "I just don't think it's possible for anyone to be in a relationship of any kind with Snape." He shuddered at his own implications.

Pansy rolled her eyes again. "You Gryffindors." She scoffed. "You'll never understand these things because you never try. Snape _is_ indeed a normal man. He's actually a very nice one." Ron fell off his seat.

Pansy heard distinct laughter from the other side of the table as she poured some of the finished liquid into four separate vials. She slipped them into her pocket as Ron finally managed to haul himself back into his seat.

Pansy promptly shoved him back off.

"Ow! What the bloody feck was that for?" Ron grumbled, getting back up to his feet carefully, wary that she might try to shove him back down. He was right to be wary. For somewhere around the seventh time that afternoon, Ron ended up on his arse with Pansy standing over him laughing internally.

"You're a pushover, Weasley." Pansy laughed, before something tugged at her pants and she was suddenly on her arse next to him.

………………………………………………

Ginny ran.

She wasn't frantic this time, if that was saying anything. She was just dreadfully afraid that Malfoy would try to follow her. She didn't know what his problem was, or what little evil concoction of mischief and malice he had planned for her, but she did know one thing; she wouldn't let him anywhere near her.

If he thought he could take claim to her without her putting up one hell of a fight, he was an idiot…a sorely mistaken idiot.

Her thoughts were cut off as she rounded a corner and nearly ran into someone who was rushing in the opposite direction. Ginny skidded to a halt inches away from Hart, who stumbled back in surprise.

"Hart!" Ginny exclaimed, her voice heavy with relief. "What have you-" she trailed off as she noticed that Hart's eyes were a brilliant green, ringed red around the edges, as though she'd been crying, and dried tears marked her round cheeks.

"Hart?" Ginny asked inquisitively. Hart bit on her lip as a sob welled in her mouth. A bitter taste on her tongue made her feel like vomiting. The world swung in a dizzying ring around her and for a moment she lost herself. She hadn't realized that she'd stumbled until she looked down in a moment of stillness and noticed Ginny's arms were around her, holding her up.

"Hart, what happened?" Ginny asked anxiously as she dropped to her knees, settling Hart's weight in her lap as she laid her friend on the floor. Hart was crying again now, all defenses down. She looked hurt and vulnerable now and a wave of anger flared in Ginny.

"Hart? Is it Hermione?"

Whatever Hart had been expecting, it certainly wasn't this. _"I've missed eating, had to listen to six plus hours of god knows what from annoyance itself…"_ The voice rang mercilessly in Hart's ears. The unexpected question made her head jerk up to stare at Ginny with vivid eyes.

Fear.

Abject fear. It graced the emerald highlights of Hart's eyes, flashing almost unnoticeably through the swirls of laughter and light like a spectre of a shadow.

"You…" she breathed, her breathing speeding as her lips went dry and her eyes wide. She stared at Ginny in disbelief for a moment before making a half-scoffing, half-laughing noise. "Is it that obvious?" she asked, after a moment.

Ginny smiled somewhat awkwardly at Hart, giving her a small hug. "I think I'm the only one who noticed…actually, I didn't even think you two had noticed yet." She said on second thought, leaning back a bit to give Hart some room.

Hart nodded. "I've known for a while. But I don't know about Hermione…I thought…but I guess I was wrong…I must have been wrong. Yes, that's it."

_I was wrong._

………………………………………………

"THAT'S IT!"

Ron paled.

"COME HERE YOU LITTLE BASTARD, I'M GOING TO RUDDY _MURDER_ YOU!"

Any trace of color whatsoever left Ron's face.

"HOLD STILL, I NEED TO POUND YOUR EMPTY BRAIN INTO THE FLOOR!"

Ron ran.

Ron ran faster than he'd ever run in his entire life. Faster than the time that spiders were chasing him and Harry through the Forbidden Forest, faster than the time he'd run through the chaotic grounds at the World Cup, and yes, even faster than the time Ginny had found all her knickers suspiciously had _I Love Slytherin_ on the bum in neon silver lettering.

He ran as if there was a hell-bent woman hung up on doing his head in with her foot chasing after him.

Actually…there was.

Ron ducked as a glass vial flew over his head, smashing into a thousand pieces against the wall behind him.

"Look, Weasley…there's a giant spider over there! Look, take two steps to your right and you can see it…" Ron's eyes bulged almost painfully as he leapt to his right, glancing furtively around.

His ear narrowly avoided getting cracked by another foully-aimed vial. "DAMNIT! Will you fecking hold still! I can't kill you if you don't hold still!" Ron dove under a table as another vial smashed into the wall he'd previously been scouting out giant killer spiders on.

"What did I do?" Ron braved from under the table.

A huge bottle nearly broke his nose. "WHAT DID YOU DO! WHAT DID YOU DO! You're an idiot!" A huge potions volume flew under his chin. "I didn't do anything!" Ron protested, chancing a peek out from under the table. Pansy's eyes went wild and she searched around her, hands shaking with what Ron assumed were murderous tremors. She screamed as she found her next projectile. "I AM NOT DUMBLEDORE AND TRELAWNEY'S LOVECHILD!"

"Well, that's a relief." Came a voice from the door.

Pansy paused, Snape's chair poised in her hands over her head. She turned her head to the door. Harry, Hermione, and Colin were all standing in the doorway, in various states of shock. Harry was trying not to laugh, Hermione was trying not to pass out, and Colin had laughed first, and then done both.

Pansy glanced from Harry shaking with muffled laughter, to Hermione, who was looking rather green, to the inert body of Colin on the floor, to the cowering figure of Ron under the table.

In the absence of anger, it's natural for us to look back and recall our actions with shame and self-disgust. Without the adrenaline coursing through our veins it's not hard to realize our mistakes and see what we might have done wrong. Being stopped in the middle of a fight makes the best of us hang our heads and assume a contrite attitude, as if to atone for our mishaps.

Pansy, however, just chucked the chair at Ron's head.


	16. Pain, Pain, and More Pain

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Stupid, dumb, completely OOC.

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine if it belongs to J. K. Rowling

* * *

**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter Fifteen: Pain, Pain, and More Pain

* * *

**

"Oh, Hart, will you stop!"

Hart turned her face up to Ginny's looking rather feeble. "I don't think she feels the same, Gin. I think she hates me." She whimpered, hatred of her own beginning to form. Ginny was seconds away from hauling her up by the arms and shoving her in the back and propelling her out of the hallway they were in.

"It's because I'm not pretty enough." Hart mumbled. Ginny stood, annoyed, hauled Hart up by the arms and shoved her in the back, propelling her out of the hallway they were in.

"And don't come back until you've gotten some self-respect or a good snog!" she shouted at Hart's retreating back. A voice sounded at Ginny's ear quite unexpectedly. "Sounds like a good idea to me, Weasley."

Ginny slammed her elbow into the face by her ear.

…………………………………………

Blaise cried out in pain.

Red. Everything was red. He stumbled back away from the vast redness of Ginny Weasley, who had most unexpectedly hit him. Hard. His back finally hit the wall and he crumbled, holding a hand to his nose, which was screaming in pain.

"Ow, fuck shit damn bugger bullocks!" he shouted, his nasal passages rock-climbing up to his brain for the fun of jamming pickaxes into it. He waved his hands in front of his nose frantically.

"Oh my gods. Blaise!" he vaguely heard Ginny shriek. Seconds later she was at his side, tentatively touching his face. "Oh Jesus, Blaise, I am so sorry! I didn't know it was you, I thought you were…Malfoy." She trailed off, brushing back some long strands of dark hair from his eyes.

"Owww…" Blaise mumbled in agony.

"Oh, Blaise…I am _so_ sorry." She said, gently brushing the edge of his jaw with soft fingers. Blaise relaxed under the soothing feel of her touch. "Hey, no poblem Gidy." Blaise said, pinching the bridge of his nose with a slightly ironic smile on his face.

Ginny was going for her wand to fix up his face when suddenly something yanked at her waist. Before she had time to realize what was going on, she was off her feet and watching Blaise's crumpled form slowly fade into the distance, getting smaller and smaller.

…………………………………………………

Hermione rubbed her temples.

"Parkinson, I know he's difficult, but did you _have _to hit him so hard?"

Pansy glanced up at the ceiling innocently as Hermione tried to revive Ron. Harry, Colin, and Hermione were all doing much better, having taken some of Pansy's potion, though now Hermione had a headache of a different sort; Ron and Pansy and keeping them from destroying one another.

Ron made a moaning sound.

Hermione waited patiently for a moment before smacking Ron (rather impatiently) on the face. "Wake up, Ron." She said harshly. Ron moaned again. "Wake up!" smack.

Hermione turned to the amassed group.

"You can leave if you want; this may take a while."

………………………………………

"So, what's between you and the Creevey kid?"

Velixandre turned to glare daggers at Snape. "What on earth are you talking about?" she snapped, sounding cool and angry, instead of rather frightened out of her mind. Snape rolled his eyes. "You know perfectly well what I'm talking about, Vel. I know you better than anyone else and there's something on between you."

Velixandre sneered sharply at Snape. "You _think_ you know me. You haven't seen me or heard from me in four years." She sounded only a tiny bit bitter. The way a jalapeno is only a tiny bit spicy, or a lemon only a tiny bit sour. Snape backed off somewhat respectfully, looking slightly more penitent than Velixandre.

"You've changed." Snape stated informatively. Velixandre's eyes hardened. "People do." She said shortly. "You've grown up." She glared at him. "I was a fully mature adult when you left, Severus." She growled. Snape scoffed. "You were a young kid." He said patronizingly.

Velixandre turned on him, eyes flashing. "If so, why did you spend so much time with me? If I was a child then, so were you." She made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat before hurrying on ahead.

From somewhere in the shadows, two pairs of eyes watched in somewhat guilty interest.

……………………………………………

Ginny thrashed around frenziedly. What the ruddy hell was going on today? Deciding it all had to do with bad karma did nothing to improve her sense of fright as she was forcibly removed from the hallway and pulled down several others.

She tried to look over her shoulder, but her hair was in the way and the angle made it impossible for her to see who had taken her up.

But she had a pretty decent idea…

"Malfoy!" she screamed, beating her fists on the arm wrapped around her waist. He readjusted her, swinging her against his hip, one arm slung under her stomach area. "Yes?" his snotty, trademark voice sounded from somewhere above, and he sounded really pissed.

"Damnit, let me go!" she fumed, pinching his wrists with her nails. With a sudden, jerky moment, he'd slammed his hip against her rear, jolting her up to her feet and taking the arm away from her middle. She stumbled, nearly tripping headfirst into a wall.

Once she'd regained her balance, she whirled around, brushing her hair impatiently out of her face. She could feel her cheeks flaring up, the blood boiling under the skin as she glared at him.

"What the hell was that about?" she shouted, clenching her fists. In seconds, Malfoy was in her face, his eyes flashing angrily, with a fire that near matched her own. "What the hell was _that_ about?" he hissed, pointing towards the hallway where they'd left Blaise.

Ginny frowned. "What are you on about? Your _friend_ snuck up behind me and I hit him, _only_, and I stress the only bit; because I thought he was you. I would much rather it have been you and when I try to help him, you haul me off like I'm some towel you own."

"You were touching him!"

"Yeah, and he wasn't affected in the least! You know why to, he's your best friend. You're just some psychotic paranoid with obsession problems. And you should be paranoid; I don't belong to you! You cannot own another human being, it just doesn't work!"

Malfoy closed the distance between them. He caught her face in his hand and held it still. Ginny struggled against him. "You will not go around touching other men." He said calmly, as though trying to drill it into her head. If he was honest, he was only too scared he'd lose her and any chance he had with her. He had to get her to like him and know him and he couldn't do that if she was prancing about with other boys.

"I will do whatever the fecking hell I bloody like." Ginny spat, glaring challengingly at him. His eyes narrowed at her. He let her chin go roughly, nearly shoving her face away. She took a step back and turned her head to glare at him just in time to see his fist swinging out of nowhere at her face.

………………………………………………

Professor McGonagall sniffed disapprovingly.

"I still maintain that something is going on between those two." She said stiffly, glaring accusingly in the direction Snape and Odekerk had left just minutes ago. Dumbledore followed her gaze, frowning pensively.

"They seemed far too chummy together." McGonagall tried again, expectantly awaiting Dumbledore's input. He simply stared down at the floor. "It sounds like they've known each other in the past…" She prompted. Nothing. "…intimately…" she added, her brows drawing a firm line over her eyes as Dumbledore stared off into the black distance of his inner thoughts. McGonagall rolled her eyes. "…sexually…" as Dumbledore's light blue eyes turned up to her in amusement, she colored a little. "…perhaps…" she added.

Dumbledore was laughing at her, she just knew it. Behind those wrinkly lines of wisdom and age and behind those sparkling blue eyes, he was laughing most hysterically at her. She didn't appreciate it.

"My dear Minerva, I highly doubt there is anything of that sort of torrid nature going on here." He paused and the thoughtful look returned. "However, I do agree that something seems…not quite right. Yes, I think I'll have a little chat with Severus and Velixandre soon." He mused to himself as he began to walk away.

McGonagall shook her head to herself and walked in the opposite direction.

………………………………………………

"She's a menace, that one."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron, right now I'm on her side, so shut up." She said snappishly. After _finally_ reviving Ron, Pansy had taken off, with one more attempt on Ron's life, which Harry and Hermione reluctantly fended off. Colin had shoved off, after being told to do so by a rather disgruntled Hermione.

So now the Golden Trio were on their way back to Gryffindor to get some homework done before dinner, which was rapidly approaching.

"So, where did you go after Colin and I left? You didn't come back to Gryffindor." Harry asked interestedly. Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. "Woke up, went to breakfast, came down to make some hangover potion or something of the likes, ran into that Slytherin arse Zabini…" she trailed off, her cheeks coloring slightly at the thought of her crudity.

"…and then I left him and that's when you ran into me." She concluded, glaring pointedly at Ron, whose elbow had left a mark on her jaw. Harry snorted in agreement. "You know, he really is a terrific bastard." Harry said, remembering Zabini's veiled talk. Hermione arched an eyebrow, giving Harry, then Ron a confused look.

"Who, Ron? Of course he's a terrific bastard, he's being an idiotic prat." She scoffed, clapping Ron on the back. He scowled at her.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Not Ron; Bl-Zabini."

"Well, obviously." Hermione snorted. But then Harry paused, thinking about the help Blaise had given him…even if it was accidental and without his knowledge. And he hadn't actually insulted Harry in any way. And Harry supposed he would have to work with Blaise if he was ever going o find and get what he wanted.

"Actually…he's not that bad…"

Two horrified pairs of eyes turned to him.

……………………………………………

Ginny winced and shrunk back into herself, squeezing her eyes shut against the fist that was swinging at her face. She waited for the blow; she knew there was no way to dodge it, it was coming so fast.

And yet it never came.

Ginny opened her eyes tentatively. Malfoy was standing in front of her, staring at his fist, which was hanging limply by his side. He turned his face up to her, his eyes showing their shock and horror.

"I almost hit you." He said, his voice flat and stunned. Ginny uncoiled from her cringing position, letting out a silent breath of relief. "Why didn't you?" she asked harshly. She almost regretted it as he stared hopelessly at his hands and her, repentance in his compelling gaze.

Before she knew it, and before she had time to react, he had moved forward and taken her up in his arms, crushing her tightly against him. Ginny's eyes widened dramatically as she felt him shaking against him. His face was buried in her hair, and he was smoothing her hair with hands that were trembling, whether with anger or hatred or something else, she wasn't sure. But she sure as hell wasn't moving in case it was one of the two former.

"I wouldn't hit you." He said shakily, his voice heavily laden with disbelief. Ginny could imagine he'd never apologized or offered an explanation to anyone in his life, which prompted her to wonder why he was now.

However, her current spot was a little more than poor for contemplating the swirling, dizzying vortex of malice, anger, and spite that was the darkness of Malfoy's mind. The mere thought send shivers down her spine. And not the good kind.

"Not unless I pushed you over the edge." Ginny spat, wriggling her body in his arms. She managed to push her upper body up by shoving down against his restraining arms. However, that only managed to bring her waist into a vise-like grip that she absolutely could not force her hips through.

Her face was inches above his as she glared down at his. She was breathing somewhat laboriously as she squirmed some more. "Let me go." she hissed, levering herself on his shoulders and pushing as hard as she could. She only managed to bring herself into a tighter hold, crushing her stomach.

She heaved in a huge breath, gulping in air. "I can't breathe, Malfoy!" she gasped. He relented a little on his grip and she leaned against him, breathing heavily. "I can do that to a girl, can't I?" she then realized that her forehead was resting against his.

"Not with them willing." She said between breaths. She felt totally and completely exhausted, and it took all her hate (aided by a strong repulsion to all things Malfoy) and strength to pull her heavy head away from his.

"Let me go, _now._" She said, her hands tightening on his shoulders. A cocked-up grin formed on his face. "Come now, dear. Surely you don't really want me to let you go? It feels too nice…doesn't it?" he gave her waist a squeeze.

She hated how easily he used her; holding her as though she was nothing but a pretty little rag doll…scraps of cloth and buttons to be tossed aside carelessly once finished with. And Ginny was quite certain that (heavens forbid) she should ever consent to what he was asking, he would take her, use her, and dispose of her once he'd gotten what he wanted. She didn't want that. She'd been used before…with Tom. She'd given herself up to him; he'd taken over her, taken her body, and once she had fulfilled her usefulness he was more than willing to take her life for himself.

She wasn't going to subject herself to that again. Not ever.

"Listen Malfoy, and listen carefully. Get it through those many layers of grease and gel that cap your pretty blonde head; I don't love you. I don't want you. Bloody hell, I don't even like you. I consider myself a rather fair person; I give everyone at least a second chance…but you…you've gone through eight or nine chances and every time you bury yourself in a deeper pile of shite than before."

She forced herself to go on, to ignore the way his self-assured smile slipped right off his face. "I don't want anything to do with you. I know you Malfoy…because I watch and I listen. The second you get what you want, there's no more sweet, niceties. You take and take and take and you never give a brass back. I'm not going to be the next girl on your list. I have no idea what's prompted this uncharacteristic display of conviviality, but you have to know that it's not working. And it never will. So please, let me go and leave me alone." She said, suddenly sounding years older. How much she sounded like a tired old woman with no one to love and no one to love her…someone who would spend the rest of their life alone and bitter.

She shook herself mentally. Even if that was the prospect of the future, she wasn't going to give in to Malfoy just because he was the only one who was interested. It went against everything she had instilled in herself. Of course, obviously, she didn't still hold onto her whimsical, fantastical ideas of princes on white stallions streaming to her rescue with hearts gold and full of devoted love, but she was still naïve enough to belief that she could find love…and practical enough to realize that she _was_ naïve.

Malfoy's smile had completely dropped off by the end of her speech, leaving him to stare at her blankly. For the strangest, unknown reason, he felt inexplicably hollow, as if it weren't his life he was living, but some parody of human life that he was viewing from an outer body, one he had no idea of its origin or being. It was the most abstract and unexplainable sensation and one he didn't quite revel in.

However, his arms (or the arms of his former body, he really couldn't tell) loosened their hold on the tiny body against his chest. Ginny slid down Malfoy's chest, coming to land on her feet with his arms slackly hanging on her shoulders.

She glanced up at him quizzically, searching his eyes for some hint of the essence that made him who he was; that cold, horrid little brat of a boy that nonetheless was a part of him. It was strangely absent from his frozen glance, staring off at the wall across from him with empty eyes.

She slithered out from his arms, taking several steps away before turning back to his still form. She still felt guilty for leaving him like this and for saying such harsh words, but she had no idea what else to do; had she been nice, he would have walked all over her anyways.

Still, she reached up and touched a hand to his face.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy. You'll find someone else. Anyone but me." With that, she turned and walked away, never looking back.

……………………………………………………

Hermione cocked her head one way. Ron cocked his head the other. It resulted in a nasty-sounding crack as their craniums smacked into each other. Harry sighed as his two best friends stumbled away from each other, each clutching their heads in pain.

Hermione was the first to recover, being the least dramatic. "What do you mean, Zabini's not that bad?" she asked, sounding magnificently horrified. Ron winced and held his head carefully.

Harry shrugged. "I mean, for a Slytherin, he's really not that bad." As Hermione's eyes continued to widen and her jaw to drop, Harry rolled his eyes. "He's not. He's been nice to me, at least." Okay, so that was stretching the truth just a wee bit. No one needed to know that.

Ron snorted, magically forgetting his poor head. "Maybe he fancies you." He chuckled. Hermione rolled _her_ eyes and fwapped Ron on the arm. "Ronald Weasley, you know better than to listen to idle gossip, especially coming from your sources."

Ron drew himself up, looking regretfully pretentious. "My sources are practically professional; you can count on your word." It was Hermione's turn to snort as she rolled her eyes yet again. "Right; your 'informants' are two seventeen-year old girls with more interest in boys and fashion than in their studies. I really hope you don't believe Lavender Brown the next time she tells you something like Snape and…hell, I don't know…Odekerk are having an affair."

This turned out to be a poor choice for making a point as Ron's eyes widened. "Oh, I can't believe I nearly forgot! They are, 'Mione! They're having an affair! I swear!"

Hermione slammed into a stone wall.

………………………………………………

Ginny rushed away from the scene she'd left with Draco. He had a nasty tendency of popping up even when she'd thought he was gone.

She was so caught up in her inner turmoil that she nearly ran over the person she was looking for. Not that it was her fault; Hermione had no reason to be sprawled out in the middle of the hallway.

As she got to her feet, she noticed Ron and Harry standing to one side. Ron looked quite guilty and kept nudging Hermione with his shoe. Ginny rolled her eyes and knelt down next to Hermione, jabbing Ron's foot away.

"Shoo." She said, whipping out her wand. Harry looked obstinate even as Ron turned to scamper away. "She's our friend." He proclaimed. Ginny snorted. "Yeah, and a lot of good that's done her, hasn't it?" she said sarcastically. Harry got the hint…and he was hungry…and left, following Ron who was already going on about ham and pie.

Ginny sighed and leaned over Hermione. "Enervate." She whispered, waving her wand.

Hermione's eyes squeezed shut even tighter and she made a groaning noise as her hands rose half-heartedly to slap away Ginny's probing wand. "Hey, Hermione…Herm- Enervate, damnit!" Ginny hissed as she poked Hermione in the side.

Hermione's eyes opened into glaring slits. "What?" she asked, realizing who was staring at her and wondering why her bed was so hard and…scratch that, why was she in the middle of the hallway?

Ginny helped the older girl to her feet. Hermione blinked around her curiously. She turned to Ginny and pierced her with a questioning gaze. Ginny shrugged, feeling infinitely awkward. "Don't ask me. I was running around looking for…someone…and I tripped over you. Ron and Harry scampered off a few seconds ago." Blaise's face came to mind and she groaned inwardly, only too eager to get away now and find him.

Hermione vaguely remembered Ron saying something stupid and then slamming into the rapidly-approaching stone wall. And then she remembered nothing but blackness. "Makes sense." She said to herself, though she didn't sound very convinced.

"Listen, Hermione, I'd love to chat and all, but I really need to be going. You be alright?" she asked in concern. Hermione just waved her away and Ginny was gone without another word.

…………………………………………………

Colin was sulking.

He even had the grace to admit it, even if it was only to the portrait of an old nursemaid who commented on his intense frowning.

Still, he was sulking.

And quite proud of it, too. He hadn't managed petulance of this level since his young childhood days. If he weren't so…sulky…he might have celebrated his return to infancy. It was somewhere along the third corridor he'd sulked down that he realized a return to infancy wasn't such a great accomplishment.

That just made him sulk more.

He was about to stop wandering aimlessly when he heard muttering from behind the tapestry to his left. From memory, he recalled that it opened to the staircase that lead to the dungeons. He was ready to dismiss it uninterestedly when he caught his name.

"…damn Creevey, being all pissed off for no good reason…"

Colin moved toward the tapestry, pulled it aside a bit and peeked through. Coming up the staircase at a deliberately slow, stomping pace, was Odekerk, her brow set in a severe 'v' and her lips curled in a snarl.

"…bastard Severus…young kid indeed…I'll shove his stupid maturity up his no-good, pasty-"

Colin winced as she slammed her toe angrily into a laughing suit of armor, who had the decency to fall all the way down two flights of stairs in a satisfactorily clanking manner, much to Odekerk's delight.

She started muttering something under her breath again, as if to make up for the loudness she had just brought about. Colin leaned forward to catch what she was saying.

"…stupid slimy rotten git…high-and-mighty pompous bastard…can't believe I used to adore him…bugger-arsed little…"

Colin fell through the tapestry without delay.

……………………………………………

Blaise decided he was having the worst day of his life.

Well…perhaps not…but right now he'd like to think so.

He hadn't managed to pull himself together enough to drag his body up off his arse and go the infirmary to get his nose checked on…he reckoned Ginny might have broken it…it wasn't the first time it had happened, not when you grew up in a Death Eater home…but it still hurt like the dickens.

He was just beginning to think he would slowly rot away on this wall and was contemplating whether or not they would make him a grave marker here and if he would come back as a ghost to haunt little Hufflepuffs, when thudding footsteps announced someone's hasty approach.

He pulled his hand down in time to see Ginny fall to her knees in front of him, her hair flying out of its messy bun and her face flushed. She looked tired, but worried nonetheless. She reached out with her wand and muttered a healing spell.

Immediately Blaise felt things moving around in the throbbing mass of pain that was his nose. With a satisfying crunching sound, the pressure that had spread to his entire face alleviated and reduced to a slight twinge of ache. He let out a sigh and touched a hand tenderly to his nose.

Ginny was watching him, guilt etched clearly in the lines around her eyes and across her forehead. It was then that Blaise noticed just why Ginny seemed to appear so much older than she was…she had premature wrinkles. Tiny ones…barely visible…but wrinkles nonetheless. Little silvery lines spanning her forehead that showed when she furrowed her brow…almost invisible crinkles at the corner and underneath her eyes…and an almost unnoticeable crease leading from the sides of her nose down to the corner of her mouth…they were not lines of happiness…they were lines of age…and pain.

For the moment, Blaise forgot completely about his nose and stared at her ceaselessly. She had gorgeous eyes…the kind that were warm and welcoming…but they had pain and anguish written clearly around their edges, so barely present that almost no one could tell. No one but a Slytherin, at least. They were used to reading other wizards and they got the most answers in the eyes.

Ginny's eyes were unguarded now as she cast several spells…to clean the blood, to conceal the bruise…he could almost see straight into her…to her soul…

As soon as he realized what he was doing, he stopped. Unlike the Slytherins, she was unprotected against that kind of personal intrusion…if he wanted to, he could read her heart like an open book…he refrained. It wasn't right. Not to her.

As Ginny finished, she sat down wearily next to Blaise. She seemed so much older than even before…as though she'd been through some kind of trial. Immediately his mind linked back to an image of her pushing past him, running, tears in her eyes.

"What happened with Malfoy?" he asked softly. Ginny was so still and non-reactive to the name that Blaise knew it had affected her…she didn't even draw in a breath, she was so impassive.

"Oh he's just fan-bloody-tastic. He was the one who hauled me off a while ago. I'm so sorry, Zabini, I would have helped you, but-" Blaise cut her off. "What's with the surname?" he asked, sounding slightly amused. Ginny stared at him blankly before realizing she had indeed called him by his given name earlier. But that had been in a spot of panic.

Ginny gave him a rueful grin and shrugged. "Didn't realize we were on a first-name basis." Blaise laughed. "I guess having someone break your nose makes you a bit more endeared to them. Congratulations, Ginny, you have broken into the Slytherin ranks and made friends with one of the enemy. Your brothers will be thrilled." He said sarcastically, giving her hand a hearty shake.

Ginny rolled her eyes, leaning back against the wall. "I've already broken into the Slytherin ranks, remember? If it weren't for Pansy I might never have met you. And then where would you be?"

Blaise scoffed. "Not lying in the hallway with a broken nose for half an hour, for one." She smacked him on the shoulder, laughing. He grinned back. "So…we're friends now?" Ginny asked contemplatively. Blaise shrugged. "I suppose. Friends are hard to come by in Slytherin house…I mean, Draco's what I consider my best friend and look at what a gigantic prat he is." Ginny laughed, somewhat restrainedly. "Don't remind me. I know perfectly well what a terrific git he is."

"I said gigantic prat, not terrific git, there _is_ a difference." Ginny grinned wryly at him. "You would know." She tossed back. Blaise leaned against the wall. "Yes. Yes I would." He agreed. Ginny shook her head in amusement and laid back against the cool stone walls.

"Does this mean I have to treat Malfoy like a human?" Ginny suddenly asked.

"Treat him as he deserves." Blaise said carefully and fairly.

"I'll take that as a no." Ginny said snidely.

Not for the first time Blaise wondered whether the girl could have passed in Slytherin house. "So…what happened in the library?" he asked suddenly. Ginny groaned. "Hell." She said, before turning to him and explaining what happened.

It was good to have Slytherin friends.

……………………………………………

Pansy really wasn't that hungry.

She'd made her way all the way down to the Great Hall only to sit down and wish she was somewhere else. The Slytherins kept glaring and hissing at her, and for once Pansy wondered if this was what the students from the other houses felt like; to be hissed and sneered at. If so, she was having a major talk with Slytherin House once she got back in.

Apparently, that was another reason the Slytherins were less than friendly to her. They all thought she had done something to get special privileges. They thought she was trying to be snobbish and superior like she was better than them.

And Slytherins didn't like that at all.

A couple of them had treated Pansy somewhat neutrally; Adrenna Riley hit Crabbe over the head with a cob of corn when he started making rude gestures at her. Millicent Bulstrode shoved Goyle from his seat when he called Pansy a slut.

When the two goons had slunk off to another part of the table, Pansy arched an eyebrow at the two girls. Millicent, in form, said nothing as usual, but went back to her meal, chomping away at a chicken breast.

Riley, however, gave Pansy a long, calculating look with her dark chocolate eyes. Pansy looked up from her untouched food, and met her eyes steadily, but not challengingly. Riley's mouth quirked up in a satisfied smirk after a moment and she made an almost indiscernible nod of her head before going back to her asparagus, playing absentmindedly with the scarf she always wore around her neck.

Pansy's face showed nothing, but internally she was ecstatic; this was a step to moving back into Slytherin. So the school still wasn't actually talking to her…big deal…she would take what she got.

………………………………………………

Ron was stuffing his face with leeks and beans.

He and Harry had been absolutely famished when they'd sat down and did very little conversing and a lot more eating. Hermione had eventually wandered in and he supposed she was fine, because she immediately sat down and began to eat, talking with Lavender absently.

Hermione sat net to Harry and Lavender next to Ron.

Ron was shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth.

Apparently Lavender wasn't that hungry, because she immediately started up another conversation with Parvati and Hermione, who listened for lack of something better to do. Ron attempted to tune them out before he heard what they were talking about; he did not want to know about womanly cycles…not while he was eating…

Lavender and Parvati were giggling and talking in hushed tones to each other. Ron caught a few phrases of what they were talking about.

"…nothing. My sister told me she got herself pregnant at the end of last year…"

Lavender gasped and shot a look over to the Slytherin table. Ron couldn't see who she was staring at, but a second later she turned back to Parvati. "But she should be all…fat…and…swollen by now, shouldn't she?"

Ron was interested now…not that he was eavesdropping or anything…but concealing a child? That would be one hell of a Concealment Charm. But Parvati shook her head. "Padma's good friends with this girl from Slytherin…and she says Parkinson hexed the child from her stomach."

Ron's eyes widened and he nearly choked on his corn. Pansy? A mother? Lavender let out a little gasp. "But…if she hexed it out…where is it?" Parvati put on a grave face and shook her head. "You can't hex a baby that premature out and expect it to live." She said sagely. Lavender's eyes bugged out of her head and from what Ron could see she looked rather sick. "You mean she killed it?" she breathed. Parvati nodded again. "But…it was alive and growing…that means it was…" Parvati broke in. "A live child. Yes."

Ron put down his fork…he'd lost his appetite…

………………………………………………

Madame Pomfrey gave Blaise one last tap with her wand. He couldn't feel anything but a slight twinge. The healer-nurse straightened up, giving his nose a satisfied look. Ginny was standing over in the corner, rocking Evangel in her arms and making cooing noises.

"All done, Mr. Zabini. It seems Ms. Weasley knows what she's doing." She said, approval in her voice, which was most obviously aimed at Ginny. Pomfrey still wasn't keen on the fact that Blaise knew about Evangel but Ginny assured her that he had her complete trust.

Ginny was swinging Evangel around in a gentle circle when Blaise came over. Ginny pulled the child back to her chest, glancing up at Blaise. "Do you want to hold her?" she asked suddenly. Blaise's eyes widened and he looked as though he'd been asked to wash Snape's hair. He glanced uncertainly at the child, who was peering up at him with large, black eyes.

He tentatively extended one finger at the child. For a moment she just stared at it. Then, just as Blaise was about to withdraw it and run away, she gurgled happily and grabbed his finger in both tiny, pudgy hands.

Ginny watched with a smug grin as Blaise's body relaxed and he leaned in closer, staring at the child (who now had his finger in her mouth and was teething on it most enthusiastically) in awe. After a moment she saw the corner of Blaise's mouth twitch upwards in a manner that most certainly wasn't the makings of a Slytherin smirk.

She grinned. Life was good.

……………………………………………………

Odekerk glanced up, nearly tripping over herself as a body fell through the tapestry ahead of her. She was just letting her imagination run wild with scenes of murder and mystery when the body moved and she realized, almost gloomily, that it was alive.

Until she saw who it was.

"Creevey?" she exclaimed, watching as the tall young man tried to untangle himself from the tapestry. He glanced up, freezing his movements. "Uh…hullo." He said, trying to appear calm.

Odekerk stared in shock at him.

Colin stared in shame at her.

And the tapestry ripped from the wall and fell on Colin.

…………………………………………………

Snape billowed through the door to Dumbledore's office. Impressively. With his long, stately black robes in full billowing action. Dumbledore was too busy unsticking gooey yellow things to fully appreciate it.

Snape seated himself in a chair across from the Headmaster, feeling very put-out indeed. Dumbledore glanced up from his excruciatingly difficult task. "Lemon Drop?" he asked, holding out a large clump of indefinable yellow…something. Snape shook his head.

Dumbledore put the yellow…thing…away and turned his full attention to Snape. Well…perhaps not his full attention…he was covertly as possible trying to lick the residual yellow gunk from his fingers by pretending to stroke his beard and mustache.

Snape watched as Dumbledore put a hand to his mouth. He wondered if that was some sort of hand gesture meaning he was wary to say whatever he was going to say. If it was, Snape was wary of whatever he was going to say as well.

"You are probably wondering, Severus, why I called you to my office." Dumbledore said around his hand. Snape nodded. "Yes, the thought had crossed my mind." Dumbledore nodded. "There is a bit of a controversial issue going on at this moment in time and I'm afraid there is no delicate way of putting this, so you must forgive me if I speak bluntly."

Snape swallowed, wondering if this had anything to do with his taking thirty points from Potter last week. "As you know, we run on a strict set of rules here…in all the years you have taught at this school, I have never had to remind you of that. Indeed, you enforcement of the rules has often gone above and beyond what we call for here." Snape nodded, thinking of Potter and the accumulated hundreds of points he'd taken from the boy.

"But recently, there has been a bit of a debate circling you." Snape nodded again. "As you know, we have a rule here that disallows any sort of…" Dumbledore's eyes flickered momentarily around, as if searching for the right word. He didn't find it. "…sexual relations…between our teachers and students." Snape glanced away. "The same applies between the teachers. Now, I would not, of course, dream of accusing you of anything, but I would like to ask if there is anything or has been anything between you and another professor here."

Snape stared bewilderedly at the Headmaster. Dumbledore decided he needed a little encouraging. "More specifically, between you and the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Odekerk."

Snape stared at Dumbledore for a full minute before quickly covering his mouth. Even Dumbledore was shocked…was Snape laughing? Whatever he was doing, he stopped and stared up at Dumbledore with a sober face.

"There was once something between Velixandre Odekerk and myself…" He stated calmly. Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair. Snape allowed himself a quick smirk at the old Headmaster.

He dragged on the silence for a satisfying moment.

"She's my sister."


	17. The Past Returns

**Author's Note: **Sorry it took so long! My computer went gnyahgasaga and poo, it didn't want to work anymore. So I had to adjust a few things and wait until two in the morning when my mom is asleep to steal her computer and tranfer many many files. Sucks, huh? Speaking of sucks, here's the next chapter.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine if it belongs to J.K.Rowling

* * *

**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter Seventeen: The Past Returns

* * *

**

"Blaise, quit sulking."

"She bit me!"

"She's a baby!"

Blaise glared at the bundle in Ginny's arms reproachfully. It slept on, completely oblivious. Ginny shook her head, trying not to smile and trying to decide which one of her company was the more immature.

Ginny readjusted Evangel in her arms. "Blaise?" she asked suddenly, doing a bit of thinking. Blaise turned to her, sulkiness wearing away at her thoughtful tone. "Eh?" he asked. Ginny stared down at the bundle. "When is Pansy's birthday?" she asked. Blaise looked confused for a moment.

"You know…I'm not quite sure. I think it's in November…I only remember because Draco said something once about Pansy looking like she'd been born near Halloween…"

Ginny shook her head and said something like 'evil little git' not quite under her breath. Blaise chose to ignore it. "Why do you ask?" Ginny finally looked up and shrugged her shoulders. "Well…Pansy seems to be so lonely…I mean, it's better now that she has you as her friend again, but…I don't know. I was just thinking…she wants to be in Slytherin still, right?"

They walked the rest of the way to Pansy's chambers in silence.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Ron, are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, you've only eaten three pieces of pie…are you sick?"

Ron glanced up at his two best friends. He didn't know why it was hitting him this hard…after all, he had called Pansy Parkinson a slut many times himself…and he knew she was a vicious, cruel, cold-hearted Slytherin…it really shouldn't have surprised him so much. Hadn't he spent half the afternoon trying to dodge her projectiles?

Still…the thought that she could have done something so…inhuman…he shuddered and pushed his plate away, trying not to look at the food. "I'm…not…feeling…going…now…" he mumbled unintelligibly, getting up and avoiding the Slytherin table as he rushed back to Gryffindor Tower.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Pansy glanced up in time to see Boy Weasley rush from the room, looking green. She had the sudden urge to feign sickness and escape as well. Aside from Riley and Millicent, everyone at the table was glaring at her if she dared to look up, or hissing at her when she reached for her pumpkin juice, and talking about her in lowered voices if she did anything to bring herself to their attention.

She thought it couldn't get any worse.

She was wrong; Draco Malfoy strolled into the Great Hall scowling heavily.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

"Er…Colin?" Odekerk asked the tapestry. It groaned and moved a little. She distinctly heard the words 'bloody' and 'buggering' from under the fabric. After a moment the rustling stopped and Odekerk briefly wondered if he'd suffocated.

Colin's head popped out of the rug, his hair irrevocably tangled and dusty. His brow was pulled into a furrowed 'v' over his eyes, which were confused. "What did you call me?" he asked. Odekerk's eyes wandered around as she tried to remember what she'd called him.

"Er…Colin?" she repeated tentatively, wondering where he was going with this. Colin suddenly cracked a grin. It was the first time she'd really used his first name. She was starting to wonder if there had been something dangerous growing in the tapestry.

His grin fell the second he remembered who she'd been talking about. _"…can't believe I used to adore him…"_ His face hardened again and he began working on disentangling himself from the tapestry. Odekerk watched for a moment as he struggled before whipping her wand out and waving it.

The tapestry reappeared up on the wall and Colin got to his feet with a grudging 'thanks' and started to walk away. "Wait!" Odekerk shouted, finding herself rushing after him. He turned to her partially. "Yes?" he asked, shocked at the coldness in his own voice.

She stopped, apparently just as surprised, if not more. "I-you-" she stumbled, wondering what she might have done to make him so angry. Yesterday he had left so suddenly and then that look he had given her when he and Potter had come across her and Snape in the hallway…

"Are you alright?" she asked gently. Colin fisted his hands at his sides. It would be so much easier if she weren't being so incredibly nice. "Terrific." He spat. "You can go back to Snape now."

And something about the way he said the name Snape made something click in Odekerk's head and then everything fell into place. He was…jealous…of Snape.

Colin turned around suddenly as Odekerk fell against the wall, laughing hysterically. She seemed to be having trouble standing, because all of a sudden, her knees gave out under her and she crashed to the floor, howling with laughter. Though he was really rather incensed about her laughter, he couldn't help but turn around and walk back over to her.

She extended a hand up, asking for help. Colin took her hand in his and hauled her up to her feet. She seemed to be getting her laughter under control because she held his shoulder to stop him from leaving.

After a few moments, she turned a slightly apologetic face up to his. "Colin, look…" she said, giving him a rare grin. "…I may be going mad, but just in case I'm not…if you thought there was anything going on between me and Sev-Professor Snape…there isn't. There never was and there never will be." She shuddered slightly and Colin was momentarily relieved.

"But…why do you call each other by your given names? And why were you looking so guilty when I saw you with him?" Colin asked, brow furrowing again. Odekerk sighed and rubbed at her temples.

"It's a long story…"

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Dumbledore stared intently at Snape.

Snape's lips twitched in what might have been the inclination to laugh. Not that he disrespected the man, but when one gets ahead of Albus Dumbledore, one should take full advantage of the situation.

Dumbledore shook his head slightly and stroked his beard thoughtfully, completely forgetting his fingers were still yellow and sticky. "I apologize, Severus…I'm a senile old man and I do believe I just went temporarily deaf…would you mind repeating yourself?"

Snape smirked idly. "Velixandre Odekerk is my sister." He said calmly. The portraits of the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses on the walls of Dumbledore's office began humming with whispers. Dumbledore looked thoroughly confused. "Forgive me if I'm mistaken, Severus…as I've said, I am an old man and my memory tends to fade…but I don't ever recall there being a Snape before you…nor do I remember you ever having mentioned a sister." He said, trying not to sound too confused.

Snape smirked again. "It was a well-kept secret, wasn't it?" he asked, voice slipping into its oily tone that said 'bwahaha, I win'. Dumbledore nodded, regaining some composure. "Well, this seems to be the makings of a good story…please do explain."

Snape bowed his head, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepling his fingers. "I was fourteen when my mother gave birth to Velixandre. She was an accident, a mistake…the result of one of my father's druken rages…" he sneered at his own memories. "He tried to prove it wasn't his. He failed. My mother refused to have it killed. Knowing my father, I'm sure you won't be overly surprised to know that when his wife gave birth to a sickly, premature girl, he was less than enthused." Snape said wryly.

"My mother did well to keep Velixandre out of my father's way. He wouldn't have minded killing her; he already had a promising heir…a true Death Eater son to make him proud." He was scowling now.

"I came home for Christmas break during my seventh year. She was three. One night my father came storming into my room, pulling her along by her hair. He threw her at me and told me to get rid of her…he knew I was fond of her and looked after her and he said it was the perfect test for a Death Eater." Snape turned his eyes up to Dumbledore. "You know Death Eaters…emotions are luxuries we can't afford." He smirked wryly.

The smirk dropped as he remembered that night. "I took her out of the house…it was the one thing I could do for my mother, even if I was killing her daughter…I wouldn't do it in her house. I promised her it would be painless." Snape allowed his eyes to close.

"I dragged her out to a field near our house. She didn't say anything the whole way. We finally got to this clearing and I pulled out my wand. I knew I shouldn't have looked at her, but I did. She was just standing there, arms at her sides, head tilted back so she could stare up at me. She asked me if I was going to make her sleep forever. I told her I was. She said she wasn't tired…but if I wanted her to go to sleep forever, she would." He gave a dry laugh. "She was devoted to me. She sat down on the ground and looked up at me and said she was ready to go to sleep. I raised my wand and she said she loved me."

Snape looked up at Dumbledore…searching those twinkling blue eyes for judgment or mockery. He found none. "I couldn't do it. Unconditional love isn't something you come across much…when you're the son of a Death Eater." he sighed.

"My father was expecting me to do this. He would check my wand. I spent hours transfiguring a wild rabbit into looking like Velixandre. Transfiguration was always one of my strong points, besides Potions. It looked somewhat like her when I was done…my father would never know the difference between his daughter and any other three-year-old. I performed the killing curse on the rabbit." He looked back up at Dumbledore.

"I didn't know what to do with her. She was only three, after all. As luck would have it, a gypsy type of caravan was passing through the woods on the other side of the clearing. I could faintly hear their music. I took Velixandre to them. There was a young woman there…one who looked vaguely familiar…she had recently lost a child. She wasn't full-blooded gypsy…they were her family and they had gone on a journey to bury her baby's body at their sacred grounds. I gave her Velixandre…she was only too happy to have a child to call her own." Snape shook his head slightly. "I thought I'd never see her again. I wouldn't have minded. I suppose she was a weakness for me."

Dumbledore watched as Snape sifted through his memories. "When I was at school, I usually avoided the Hogsmeade trips. I think I went once to pick up a book in my seventh year, but I didn't stay or venture to anywhere else. But years later, when I applied for the position of Potions master at Hogwarts, if you remember correctly, I met you in the Hogs Head."

Dumbledore nodded, eager to get back on the solid ground of things he knew and remembered. "Yes, I remember. You were qualified for the job and I hired you immediately." He recalled. Snape nodded in affirmation.

"It was the first time I had been to Hogsmeade in four years. I decided to roam about a bit. It was cold…January, I believe. I went into the Three Broomsticks to warm up. And I saw the woman who had taken Velixandre…come out from behind the bar…in sparkling turquoise heels."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Pansy studiously ignored Malfoy, who had been staring pointedly at her for the past five minutes. She was in no mood to talk to the git, Blaise's friend or no. Not after what he'd tried to do to Ginny.

Malfoy, however, wasn't getting the message.

"Parkinson," he hissed.

Pansy glared at her pie.

"Parkinson," he tried again.

Pansy was sure she was bending the fork clasped tightly in her knuckle-white hand.

"Parkinson!"

The fork bent.

"WHAT?" she screamed, standing up so suddenly she knocked over the goblet of pumpkin juice on the table. Orange liquid seeped through the tablecloth and began to drip into Malfoy's lap. He didn't notice.

Pansy was torn between sitting down demurely and looking apologetic for her outburst and continuing to rant and rave on and go out with a bang. Estrangement or not, she was still a Slytherin…

"What do you want, Malfoy? Come to torture the little girls, eh? Isn't that your specialty? Guess what, we all know you're the centre of the universe. We know everything revolves around you. We know you're the king of the school…that everyone should bow down to you…that you think yourself better…well guess what? You're not!"

Admittedly, she sounded a tad bit immature, but there was that old saying…fight curses with curses (A.N.- 'fight fire with fire'…)…Malfoy was going to get back tenfold whatever hippogriff shite he dished out to her.

She'd bury him with it.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Colin goggled at Odekerk, who had sat down on the stairs at some point in her storytelling. "So he passed you of to live with Madame Rosmerta?" He breathed, head swimming as he struggled to figure out exactly what the hell was happening. It seemed as though he'd fallen into some parallel universe.

"Rosmerta's mother was a Russian gypsy. Her da was a salesman from Ireland; met her on a business trip once. Rosie grew up with Jack; her mum was usually caravanning around Europe, following the seasons and the tides. The gypsies had come back to England when Rosie's first child died in an accident. Rosie told me about the funeral and the traditional ceremony that followed. Growing up, those were my fairy-tale stories."

"Wait, wait…you grew up in a tavern?"

Odekerk flashed Colin a tight grin, marvelling at how the male brain seemed to pick out only the most important facts in a string of information. "Yes, I grew up in a tavern. Rosie was my mum, best friend, and sister until I turned eleven. I got a letter from Durmstrang, it's near where Rosie's mum grew up. Everyone assumed I was Rosie's daughter…no one really knew her own had died…she hadn't allowed it down in the tavern…she gave me her mum's maiden name for a surname and sent me off to school at Durmstrang."

Colin was staring. "So, this is the first time you've seen your brother since you were three?" he asked in confusion. Odekerk shook her head vehemently. "No, no, no. No, Severus stumbled into the Three Broomsticks when I was seven. Of course he recognized Rosie and being the poncy git he is, demanded to see me. He sent me letters throughout all seven years at Durmstrang. I lived at the deserted Snape Manor for three years after that until I was twenty and met my future husband…" she stared down at her hands, which had been fiddling with the hem of her robes. "…after that, I never really saw Severus anymore. Until this year, that is."

Colin was looking blissfully lost.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Blaise glanced over at Ginny.

"Alright, I give in. What _are_ you doing?" he asked exasperatedly. The moment they'd gotten into the room, Ginny had sent an owl off with a hastily scribbled letter, sunk down into a chair, and began to write things down on a piece of parchment.

Ginny glanced briefly up from her parchment. "Nothing." She said, entirely too innocently as Blaise rocked Evangel around for her after-dinner burp. Blaise would have persisted, but Evangel decided to throw up on his chest right then.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Malfoy was looking stunned, as was the rest of the room. Glancing up at the head table, Pansy noticed that Snape, Dumbledore, and Odekerk were missing. Ten guesses what Snape and Odekerk were up to…Pansy just hoped Dumbledore wasn't in on it.

Feeling violently ill from her gutter-washed thoughts, Pansy got up from the table and rushed from the great hall, stepping purposefully on Malfoy's toes as she went.

She was halfway down the stairs to the dungeons when she tripped over a pair of very long legs sticking out from behind a statue. Sprawled out on the floor, her breasts and nose hurting very much, she turned to glare at whoever had tripped her, praying it wasn't a dead body so that she could kill it herself.

Luckily, it was alive.

Ron stared up at Pansy in disgust. "Get lost, Parkinson." He growled, sounding very Malfoy to Pansy, who gaped as she got to her feet. "What crawled up your arse and died?" she spat, rubbing at her chest. He glowered at her, leaping to his feet.

"You dirty, shameless, leg-spreading slag!" he cried. Pansy took a step back, her face paling. "I-what?" she gasped, unable to form a coherent sentence when Weasley was looking so horrified and very much like he wanted to spit on her.

"You heard me. I really thought you had it…that you were different from the other Slytherins. But you're just as sick and twisted as they are. No, you know what? You're worse. This is an all-time low for you Parkinson…you make Malfoy look like a saint." He spat.

Pansy felt something weird happening in her face. Her eyes were leaking and…it took her a moment to realize she was crying. She didn't know why, but she was. Even Ron looked a little flustered as first one, then a dozen, then many tears slipped through her eyes no matter how hard she tried to push them back in.

She stared up at Ron in shock before whirling around silently and disappearing.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Snape leaned back in his chair.

"And there you have it. After her husband died, she gave up the solitary life to come and work here. The insuffer-er, the…woman…was always better at the Dark Arts. _She _got to go to Durmstrang. _I_…" he paused, realizing he was about to insult Hogwarts in front of the Headmaster. "…was fortunate enough to attend Hogwarts." He finished as Dumbledore's eyes twinkled knowingly.

"If you don't mind, sir. I have a lesson to plan for my classes tomorrow." Without waiting for a dismissal, he rose and departed just as impressively as he'd entered. And once again, Dumbledore failed to notice, as this time he was trying to unstick his sticky yellow fingers from his beard.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Ginny glanced down at the list she'd been toying with. Recalling from memory as best as she could, she had written down the names of the people Blaise had said were no longer in following with the Death Eaters.

She was beaming as she folded the paper and tucked it into her pocket. With Blaise's help, and if she was lucky, she would be able to talk to those few and convince them that Pansy had not killed her child. With their help, Pansy's birthday present would be ready; acceptance back into Slytherin, something Ginny knew Pansy desperately wanted.

Ginny was in such good spirits that she grinned wildly even as the door to the room banged open. She turned and rose to greet Pansy. She was cut off as Pansy shoved her away. "Out." She whispered angrily. Ginny's smile dropped like it weighed two stone. She cast a questioning glance at Blaise, who was still holding Evangel. He shrugged.

Ginny turned back to Pansy, feeling something like pain washing through her. She reached out to comfort her, but Pansy slapped her hands away viciously. "OUT!" she bellowed, staring fiercely at the ground and pointing out the wide-open door.

Ginny made her way carefully out of the room. Blaise made to put Evangel in her bed, but Pansy whirled on him and he could see the tears in her eyes. "Get out of my room and take that godforsaken piece of shit with you. I don't want it." She spat, glaring at Evangel, who had awoken with a cry.

Blaise slowly backed out and Pansy followed, slamming the door in his face. Ginny numbly took the crying baby in her arms and followed Blaise wordlessly down to the clinic.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Madame Pomfrey looked surprised to see Ginny and Blaise there, at her classroom door, with Evangel. Blaise looked darkly at her and Ginny stared blankly at the floor. "Madame Pomfrey?" She asked the stone flooring. "Evangel and I need a place to stay…"


	18. The ExHeir

**Author's Note: **Here again. This begins to jump around at the end; the next chapter has what Snape said to get Pansy out of her room, which happens before the scene between Pansy and Blaise and Ginny near the end of this chapter. Sorry, but things are going to get even jumpier. Should I put helpful hints in the page breaks? Hm.

**Disclaimer:** Really, I mean it. I'm not J.K.Rowling. What isn't hers is mine.

* * *

**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter Eighteen: The Ex-Heir

* * *

**

Pansy wouldn't let anyone talk to her.

She hadn't attended any of her classes for two days and not even Snape could get a word in to her. She sat in her locked room, keeping people worrying as she hadn't been out for meals.

She finally accepted a basket of food Dumbledore sent down to her, but she remained shut in her room. No one knew what had happened to her, not even Blaise or Ginny. Blaise went about his daily schedule, stopping in to talk with Ginny before and after his Magical Healing classes.

Ginny hadn't attended classes in two days either. Evangel had suddenly taken sick and would not stop crying. She hadn't ceased since Pansy's explosion and would only take to semi-silence in sleep. Ginny watched her all day under the Silencing Spell Pomfrey had placed on her office.

Ron had come in to check on Ginny, whom he hadn't seen since Sunday morning, before Wednesday morning classes. Madame Pomfrey was giving the excuse that she was terribly ill with a contagious flu and couldn't talk for long.

Ginny had had to climb into one of the beds and assume a tragic-looking sick face. Ron had asked worriedly about her health and she had given quite a convincing cough. Ron himself was looking paler and sicker than Ginny was. She asked him how he was feeling.

Ron laughed shortly, running a hand distractedly through his red hair. "Like shite." He said. Glancing around the room, he turned furtively to his little sister. "Look, Gin…I've heard what they've been saying…that the Parkinson girl shut herself in her private rooms and hasn't been out since Sunday evening…"

Ginny nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"I don't know who else to tell. I don't even know what's going on. But I thought I should tell someone…and after all, you're her friend, right?" Ginny shrugged weakly, giving the impression she was tired. "I think I might have had a hand in her…erm…strange change in…er…behaviour." He confided, staring at his feet.

Ginny's eyes flew open.

"What?" she hissed. As Ron explained his outburst and the reasoning behind it, Ginny began to understand. So Pansy was back to thinking she was a terrible person. All that progress and work ruined because Ron had gotten upset.

Madame Pomfrey made Ron leave once Ginny had started throwing the really big hexes at him. She ignored the fact he was sporting antennae and ushered him out. Ginny sat in the bed for a long time, thinking about what had happened.

When she wasn't dealing with Evangel, Ginny worked on the work she was missing. As she had expected, it was simple, having read the books over the summer. She mixed up a few ingredients in her Potions essay, gaining her a detention from Snape for 'failure to realize a point that might prove fatal with the real thing'. Stupid, smarmy git.

At one point Colin Creevey came in to give her the photographs she'd asked for…ones of Ginny, Pansy, Blaise, and the Slytherins. She was planning on having more taken and then given to Pansy as a present. It was then that she remembered that Pansy wasn't talking to her.

Colin had sounded a tad suspicious when Madame Pomfrey had been 'unable to find' Ginny and had taken the photos from Colin herself. Colin left looking highly pensive.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ginny woke with a start.

It had to be at least two in the morning, a fact she didn't appreciate as she swung her legs groggily over the edge of her cot in the Infirmary. She was wondering briefly what had pulled her from a deep sleep chasing after something she desperately wanted, when she heard urgent voices.

"…no, no, not there…Weasley's still here…put him over there…"

Curiously, Ginny slipped off the cot, the cold from the stone floor seeping into the tender, fleshy part in the middle of her feet. Wrapping arms around her bare shoulders, she shuffled out from behind the curtain that concealed her from the rest of the hospital wing.

Yawning a little loudly, she saw a group of people gathered around the bed across from hers. Trudging over silently in her bare feet, no one took notice of her until she spoke, still yawning and scrabbling for purchase on her words.

"…ahhh…what's going on…ahhh…?" she yawned, trying to blink blurring sleep from her eyes. She heard sharp voices and immediately Professor McGonagall dressed in a tartan dressing gown, came over in front of her, trying to block off whoever was in the bed.

But Ginny caught a glimpse of him over the Transfiguration professor's shoulder. Her body went slack, her arms dropping limply from around herself, swaying slightly on weak knees as her head spun and rang with a tremulous, deafening silence. It was Dean. Staring glassily up at the ceiling, his mouth frozen in a silent scream.

He was Petrified.

Ginny felt darkness seeping in through the corners of her eyes with shadows that nearly blinded her. She heard several people talking at once, their voices muffled, almost as though they were stored away in the back of her mind. Images of a handsome, thin, pale, tall, black-haired young man with a wicked grin loomed before her. A cold, mocking laugh filled her mind, pushing everything, even consciousness away with a vicious and sly brutality.

The last thing she remembered was McGonagall catching her before she hit the floor.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The school was in torment the next day. Seamus, Harry and Ron had visited the infirmary to see if Dean was there. What they found were two occupied, but closed off cots and a firm and unrelenting Madame Pomfrey. When Ron pointed out that if Ginny wasn't dying, he was allowed to see her as a concerned family member, she allowed him five minutes, no more, and made Harry wait outside and had sent Seamus away entirely when he used Madame Pomfrey in conjunction with a not-very-nice name. A rather creative one, as well.

Ron pulled the curtains away from Ginny's cot. "Merlin." He breathed, his hand dropping to his side. Ginny was curled up in such a tight ball that her knees reached up over her ears, her legs shoved firmly against her stomach. Her head was tucked into her knees. But that wasn't the frightening part…

She was shaking uncontrollably.

Ron could only stare in disbelief. This was Ginny... this cowering mass was his brave little sister. The little sister who had grown up at age eleven, faced and possessed by the darkest wizard of all time and lived, retaining her sanity. The little sister who had managed her life without friends, her crush, or her brothers. The little sister who had won them a Quidditch match in the place of the best Seeker in a century. The little sister who had hexed the most evil git in the entire school. The little sister who had stood up against Death Eaters, withstanding a broken ankle.

This was her.

She still hadn't noticed he was there; it would have been rather difficult with her eyes clenched shut. He watched as she began gasping again, her head jerking up. It was then that Madame Pomfrey pulled him away and told him it was time for him to leave. Harry stared at Ron expectantly as he came out of the hospital wing, face pale and with a slightly vacant shocked look on it.

"Well?" Harry asked worriedly. No one had seen Dean since he'd mentioned sneaking out to the kitchens (Ron told him the way reluctantly) Wednesday night. He hadn't returned to the dorm and he wasn't there in the morning.

Ron shook his head a little vaguely. "Erm…uh, well…I don't really know about Dean…Madame Pomfrey wouldn't let me see anyone but Ginny…" Harry looked up immediately at the strange strained lilt to his best mate's voice. "Why's Ginny in the hospital wing still? I thought Madame Pomfrey could cure any common sickness in a moment?" he asked curiously, more than a little worried.

Ron shrugged his shoulders, looking utterly baffled and very Ron. "I don't know. But Ginny looks horrible." And with that, the topic was worn out and it was time to discuss breakfast.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Madame Pomfrey glanced towards the closed-off cot Ginny was enclosed in. She turned back to her third-year Ravenclaw class and instructed them to break up into pairs to work on the binding spell they'd just learned.

Checking on a few of the pairs and making some comments, she slowly made her way through the classroom to her office. Slowly and casually, so as not to attract much attention, she slipped into her room for the fifth time during the class period.

Evangel was beginning to stir again. Pomfrey sighed and poured another vial of the Dreamless Sleep potion. Muttering something about stupid Weasleys, she fed Evangel quickly before slipping back out to her class.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Blaise?"

Blaise cringed, and then continued to open the curtains surrounding the occupied cot. Ginny was sitting up expectantly, waiting for him. She knew it was him; he was the only one Madame Pomfrey had been coerced into being allowed to see Ginny.

"Bloody hell, Weasley…you look like manticore manure." Blaise said, not taking his eyes off Ginny and nearly missing the chair he tried to sit in.

Ginny scoffed weakly. She had seen for herself this morning just how horrid she looked. Blaise looked her over not so discretely, taking in her limp, unwashed hair, her pale and slightly smudged face, and the award-winning purple circles around her eyes. It was clear she hadn't slept all last night.

"Good to see you too, Zabini." She said, surprised at her own voice; it was low and raspy and she cleared her throat hastily. Blaise stared at her with a curious expression. "Weasley, what's with you?" he asked. He hadn't seen her ever look this bad, not even last year when she'd fallen twenty feet off her broom during a match against Slytherin and broken her leg.

Ginny closed her eyes and Blaise could see blue veins standing out against the pale purple of her eyelids. She took a deep, shuddering breath, as if preparing to jump off a building…building her strength for whatever answer she was going to give him.

"They brought in someone this morning. Dean Thomas…he's a muggle-born Gryffindor in your year." She said shakily, her eyes still glued shut, her eyelid ticking anxiously. It sped up as she took in another steadying breath. "He's been Petrified." Her voice cracked and broke desperately.

Blaise sat back a bit in his chair, partially from nervousness towards her and partially from the shock of the information. Petrified. Pertrification hadn't been an issue or even a discussion topic in Hogwarts since…

He glanced up at her, horrified realization dawning on his face.

She was breathing heavily through her nose by now, as if trying to calm herself by force. "Do you remember…in your second year…there was a load of business with the Chamber of Secrets…with Petrifying muggle-borns and…those not of full wizarding blood…with Heir of Slytherin…with…"she stopped, shaking violently again.

"The Heir of Slytherin?" Blaise prodded.

One single tear leaked from beneath the twitching eyelid. Ginny slowly opened her eyes. Blaise stared at them, captivated by the amount of hatred and pain in them. Blaise didn't even have time to block the onslaught of emotions he read in her eyes. She wasn't guarding herself at all…her defences were down and she looked so tired. When she finally found her voice, it was in a scratchy whisper.

"_I _was the Heir of Slytherin..."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Harry! Ron!"

They turned around, and watched as Hermione made her way down the hallway towards them, having said goodbye to Hart previously. She caught up to them just at the Entrance Hall, where students were gathering to enter the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Hey. Did you see Dean?" she asked as they entered the Great Hall behind some Ravenclaw fourth years. Ron was still in a silent trance, so Harry shook his head. "No, Pomfrey wouldn't let anyone in…stiff-arsed cow…except for Ron, and only so he could see Ginny." He snorted and shook his head, still miffed he hadn't been able to get in and see her.

Hermione made a disapproving sniff of a noise as they sat down at the Gryffindor table. "Well, I'm not going to pretend I wouldn't have liked to have known where Dean is, but still...I'm certain Madame Pomfrey had justified reasoning for not letting you in." Hermione said, aggravatingly knowledgeably.

Harry turned to Ron to make a face as Hermione buttered her toast, but Ron was staring off into his eggs. Harry waved a hand in front of Ron's face. The red-haired boy jerked as though shocked and looked up at Harry in bewilderment.

"Wha-?" he asked. Harry gave him a weird look and readjusted his glasses. "You alright, Ron?" he asked suspiciously. Ron shook his head a bit and shrugged his shoulders. "'Guess so…just worried about Ginny…" he trailed off.

Hermione looked up at this. "How is Ginny? Did Madame Pomfrey determine what's wrong with her yet?" she sounded a little sceptical. Ron shook his head. "Batty old cow said she was suffering from some kind of flu…that's all she would tell me."

Hermione was about to berate Ron when she saw something that made her stop, jaw hanging open in a most undignified manner. Harry turned and saw it too…a seriousness in Ron's set face that was almost never there…

He looked up directly at his two best friends. "But I know one thing she didn't have to tell me…" he said, his voice low and sombre "…Ginny may be suffering…but it's not from any flu…"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"That's it, Parkinson! If you don't open this door in the next three seconds, I will be forced to hex it open!"

Pansy glared violently at the door, through which she could hear Snape's voice perfectly loud, as though he was standing right next to her, screaming in her ear. Rolling her wand, she waved it carelessly at the door…she was too tired to put up with this any longer.

"Alohomora." She stated wearily.

Snape had just been in the process of banging his fist on the door (a method of entry that still didn't work, after all the attempts he'd made in the past ten minutes) when Pansy's spell unlocked the door.

Stumbling into the room, he immediately straightened and smoothed out his robes. He made his way to the chair across from Pansy and sat.

"I see you've come to whatever senses you possess, Parkinson." He said snidely, sweeping a strand of hair elegantly from his face. Pansy rolled her eyes and returned the sneer. "You wouldn't be one to talk much about sense, now would you, Snape?" she shot back.

Snape glared at her somewhat less than impressively. "That's _Professor_ Snape to you, Parkinson…you are, after all your escapades and bouts of hormonal petulance, still a student at this school."

Pansy sneered. "Then it's _Miss _Parkinson to you, Snape…you are, after all your greasy-haired loftiness and superior temper-tantrums, still a wizard amongst society, and might I remind you, that I am legally of age and as far as you're concerned, an equal."

Snape glowered at her for a few moments. Then the side of his face ticked up in a half-smirk.

"Welcome back, Pansy."

"Burn in hell, Snape."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Blaise couldn't overcome the icy shock that had thawed and surged through his veins, digging into his temples.

"Y-y-you?" he stumbled over his words, the world spinning around him as he tried to take in all the information she'd just presented him with. "You were the Heir of Slytherin?" Ginny's head, which up to now had been resting on her knees, now lifted up and nodded once, wearily.

"You opened the Chamber of Secrets five years ago?" another nod. "And you set the basilisk on those Mud- er, muggle-borns?" Ginny let out a strangled sob and buried her face in her knees again. "I didn't want to!" she rasped, her voice raising until it broke raw.

"I didn't, I didn't, I didn't, I didn't!" she chanted, fisting hands in her hair until tears streamed down her cheeks. "I didn't want to be a bad person…I didn't want to attack Colin or Hermione or Justin or Penny or anyone! I didn't even want to hurt Mrs. Norris!" she cried.

Blaise stared down at her. "How?" was all he could ask. "You're not even in Slytherin…" he trailed off. Ginny sniffled. "I could have been…oh, but what a riot that would have gotten…the first Weasley in Slytherin…wouldn't mum have been pleased!" she shouted. "It didn't matter to him, though. I was just the first person to write to him…he made me do those things. He made me his friend. He made me evil!"

"Who?" Blaise asked concernedly. "Tom Riddle!" Ginny screamed, spitting the name out like poison. "Tom, Tom, Tom, Tom, Tom, Tom, Tom…he was my friend and he hurt me, he hurt me, he hurt me…he hurt me, he-"

SLAP!

Ginny's head snapped around and she stared in shock at the bedside she was now facing. Gulping, her mouth flapping open and closed, her face went pale around the reddening handprint on her cheek. Ginny touched her cheek in surprise.

She glanced up at Blaise a bit sheepishly. "I'm sorry…" she whispered shakily, sitting back up. Blaise nodded, wincing at the tingling, spiking pain on his palm. "S'alright. Went a bit hysterical on me there for a tick." He said, watching her carefully. She seemed to be gathering herself up inside her mind. Letting out a steady stream of breath through her nose, she grinned weakly up at Blaise. "Needed that." She muttered.

Blaise got up and sat himself down on the edge of Ginny's bed…there was plenty of room as her legs were pulled up against her chest. "Now, why don't you tell me exactly what happened five years ago in the Chamber of Secrets?"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Colin glanced nervously up at the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. She was over at the other side of the room, dealing with another sixth year boy. Jealousy spiked through him as he watched the boy make an excuse to lean over Odekerk's chest.

It abated and he grinned when she moved suddenly away, and the lad fell over. Colin shook his head and tried to get back to the Binding Spell they were supposed to be working on. He couldn't stop looking over at her. They'd patched things up rather nicely last night, but it was still awkward. He wasn't sure how to act…on the one hand, she was his teacher, his elder, and his superior…and on the other, she was his lover and who knew what else.

He opted for avoiding her eyes whenever possible and trying not to touch her for fear of possible spontaneous combustion.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"D'you hear?"

"What?"

"The Weasley girl and the Thomas boy are in the hospital wing."

Draco's ears perked and he looked up from his untouched plate. Crabbe and Goyle involved in a conversation was a legendary mark in history in itself. But talking about the Weaselette (a subject Draco was usually wont to bring up) was another thing entirely.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Dunno."

"Think it's bad?"

"Hope so."

And that was that. Crabbe went back to stuffing his face with anything edible (and some not-so-edible) in a five-foot diameter of where he was sitting, Goyle reverted to using two wide spoons to shovel food into his mouth, and Draco went back to studiously not eating.

The hospital wing…now that was interesting…

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"The Chamber of Secrets…" Ginny whispered, her eyes glazing over. "What is there to say? Lucius Malfoy "accidentally" gave me Tom Riddle's old diary…sixteen-year-old Tom befriended, seduced, conquered, and overpowered me…made me attack all those people with a giant bloody snake…made me do things I'd never…ever…" she trailed off, touching a hand to her stomach.

Fear, shot like lightning and twice as powerful, struck Blaise in the stomach. "He didn't…did he?" he asked as Ginny's eyes darkened. "He did." She whispered silkily, too smooth and calm for what she was talking about. Blaise's mouth twisted into a frowning grimace. "But you were only-" "Eleven." Ginny cut him off. "I know. Eleven…I hadn't ever even thought of those kinds of things…Tom…well, Tom made me…not care. I do now, though. It wasn't physical…it was all in my head…but it hurt…it hurts." She swallowed, looking determinedly up at the ceiling.

Blaise saw the tears she was trying to tilt back into her head. She exhaled through her nose. "And finally, he made me go down there…to the Chamber of Secrets." She didn't need to add the 'to die' part…it was overdramatic and already implied.

"Did Dumbledore know about this?" Blaise asked finally, guessing Ginny probably wanted to get away from the pity he was building up for her. Ginny snorted. "Of course. Harry and Ron came down with that great git Lockheart…Harry came and saved the day…" she sighed again. "Not quite the helpless damsel-in-distress victim story you were anticipating, eh? I turned out to be the bad guy in my own telling." She laughed a little hysterically.

"Can you help it you were possessed by the Dark Lord?" Blaise asked. "Yes. It was stupid to do…write in a diary that writes back. Mum and dad told me so…and they were right. I only told them some of the story…" her eyes darkened and actually narrowed "…I didn't want them to think I was an ever bigger idiot than they thought."

Blaise shook his head. "You're quite a weird kid sometimes, you know that, right?" Whatever Ginny's half-arsed, sarcastic comment might have been, it was cut off by the hospital door slamming open, much to Madame Pomfrey's dismay.

Blaise slid off Ginny's cot just as Pansy Parkinson strode into the wing, her robes trailing helplessly after her. She planted herself firmly in front of Ginny's bed, hands on her hips, her eyes glaring violently.

"What the hell do you think you're doing lying in bed feeling sorry for yourself when you're supposed to be taking care of my child?"

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

"Spit it out."

Hart jerked her head up, glancing away from the book on magical herbs she was perusing. Pushing her glasses down her nose, she wondered when Hermione had snuck into the Common Room without her noticing.

"What?" Hart asked, pushing her glasses up on top of her head.

Hermione was sitting on the couch across from her, frowning slightly.

"Don't give me any of that, what." Hermione said testily.

"I don't know what you're on about." She said earnestly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You know exactly what I mean…you've been sulking around all day, not talking to anyone. Why?"

Hart scoffed, settling her glasses back in front of her eyes and turning her face to the book again. "Worried about Ginny, that's all." She said easily. Alright, so perhaps that wasn't all…she was still unsure about where she stood with Hermione and needed some time to figure it out.

Hermione seemed to accept this rather flaky excuse and her brilliant mind started to turn things over. "Yes…there's something strange about it. According to what I read about viruses, Madame Pomfrey should have been able to cure Ginny in a few moments. Yet she's been in there for days." Her face took on a contemplative frown.

"Hmm…that's odd."


	19. Attacked Again

**Author's Note:** Back. I put a hint at the head of one of the page breaks to try and help you out. Probably did more damage than help. Oh well…look out for OOC Draco and Ginny. Scratch that; beware because this entire story is OOC. I suck. Look out for my new story coming soon!

**Disclaimer: **No, I am not J.K.Rowling, but I own everything else.

* * *

**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter Nineteen: Attacked Again

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**

Snape turned curious eyes over to Pansy. She was sitting, curled up in a chair by the fireplace, wearing rumpled and well-slept in robes. The mug of tea in her hands had gone cold long ago and yet she still didn't acknowledge the fact that she still had it in her hands.

Her skin was pale except for the bags under her eyes that belied stress and deep thought. Snape recognized them as the bags most Slytherins wore as proudly as battle scars at one point in their life.

"Rough time, Parkinson?" he drawled.

Pansy showed her first sign of life, giving him a colourful glare and a rude hand gesture. Snape smirked coolly. "Not very nice, are you?" he suggested, sounding so much like Malfoy that Pansy nearly hexed him right there.

She kept quiet, her mouth a grim line of determination not to kill Snape.

"I'm expecting you to explain the reasoning as to your absence from classes this week." Snape said, business-like once more. Pansy growled at him, almost startling him. Almost.

"What, you actually suppose I'd attend my classes? Or indeed, do anything worthwhile?" As Snape just eyed her warily, she snorted. "Good to know _someone_ has faith in me…after all, I am just a…oh, what was it…a 'dirty, shameless, leg-spreading slag' after all." Snape sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful.

"Indeed? And who might have such an extensively crude vocabulary?" he asked. Pansy snorted, chucking the contents of her teacup into the fire, making it sizzle and pop and puff green smoke.

"Why, one of the Weasleys, of course…they don't have much…no class, no money, no taste, no life…really all they have is their primitiveness." She sneered. Snape looked thoughtful. "Weasley, eh?" he lurched to his feet, pacing about the room. "Ridiculous. I told the Headmaster that girl would be trouble. But no, he wouldn't believe me. And now here she is calling one of my students a dirty, sha-"

"Severus, that's quite enough…I didn't like it the first time I heard it, and I'm less likely to like it now, so shut it." Pansy interrupted. "And it wasn't Ginny, it was her stupid prat of a brother…Ronald Weasley." She snapped, spitting the name into the fire where it puffed blood red fumes.

"Oh."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Least I know the Slytherins will let me back in…anything that bothers Gryffindors makes us happy, right?" she sneered. Snape paused, his mind following another track, pursuing a line that might get Parkinson out of her self-pity hell-hole.

"Speaking of Weasley…you do know the girl's been laid up in the hospital wing since early Monday morning?" he said casually. Pansy's eyes flickered over to her Potions teacher. "Oh?" she asked, the years of Slytherin upbringing keeping the interest in her voice to a bare minimum.

"Indeed. Madame Pomfrey is quite worried about her…something about a nervous breakdown of sorts…seems to be a problem with a lot of our young ladies at the moment…" he said, staring pointedly at Pansy. She glared at him.

"And why are you telling me this?" she asked acerbically.

Snape shrugged, standing. "Just curious as to who was taking care of your daughter…" he said, before disappearing through the door, leaving Pansy to begin to fume.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………(this is back to the scene from the last chapter)……

Ginny stared at Pansy for a moment, too lost for words to realize that she should close her mouth, which was hanging open.

Pansy crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for an answer. "Well?" she asked testily. Ginny's mouth was paper-dry as Blaise slid off her cot. "That's my cue to leave." He whispered to her. Just before he left, he turned to Ginny. "There are a few things I think she should know." He said, eyes jerking to Pansy. "At a time like this…you need your friends' help."

As he left, and as Pansy gave them both searching, thoughtful glares, Ginny made up her mind. If anyone could understand her position, it was a Slytherin, as Blaise had just demonstrated. If she tried unloading her worries about still being possessed by Tom Riddle on anyone from any other house, she'd be turned out on her arse before she could say 'Voldemort'.

"Pansy…I need to tell you something…"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Pansy wasn't one for showing emotions. Yet, having heard Ginny's rather long story, she couldn't help but gape. "That was you?" she asked somewhat stupidly. Excusable, since after that tale, her brain was reduced to mush. Ginny frowned a bit, but nodded.

Pansy cracked a grin, something of her former feelings breaking through the hick mush. "Nice one!" she said, slapping Ginny on the back before screeching to a halt and grimacing. "Sorry." She apologized sheepishly. Ginny was too busy working a grin onto her face to note the odd contriteness in her friend's voice. She didn't quite feel like grinning right now.

"But…" Pansy said suddenly, comprehension dawning almost visibly over her pretty face. "…but that means…if it was you last time…and it's starting all over again…" she trailed off, staring at Ginny expectantly.

Ginny couldn't help it. Her dam broke and tears flooded her tear ducts. She felt like screaming right now, because through all her frustration, she didn't know the answer to that question. Was she the one attacking students again?

Pansy watched in shock as Ginny began to weep, then to cry, then sob in earnest. Her pale face was going a blotchy red all over and her face was contorted into a painful grimace.

Pansy did something then that she rarely did, and in fact, could almost never remember doing; being in Slytherin, she knew as well as the rest of them that crying was showing weakness. It was frowned upon in Slytherin house. Still, Pansy wrapped her arms around Ginny and let her cry.

"If it is you, I don't care." She whispered as Ginny racked with sobs. "Blaise and me, we'll help you." And even through her tears, Ginny simply cried harder, sinking her head into Pansy's shoulder.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Blaise was visiting Ginny late the next night when they brought in the next victim. Blaise had been helping Ginny with her Potions (where they were making the Mandrake Restorative Drought for Dean) in the stealth and darkness of night right after hours when the doors to the hospital wing had burst open, emitting harsh whispers as half a dozen people spilled through them.

Blaise used the first escape route that came to mind; he hid under Ginny's bed. She let her covers slide down to the ground on one side just in case anyone noticed the bulk under her bed.

But no one seemed in the noticing mood. They were bustling all over and talking in hushed tones, urgency spilling over to Ginny's side of the room. As silently as possible, she slid off her bed, ignoring the hissing warnings not to from Blaise. She shuddered at the frigid cold stone of the hospital wing floor. Wrapping her arms around her, she slunk noiselessly over to the bed teachers were rushing around. Professor Sprout was there, looking pale and drawn. On the bed, being administered to by Madame Pomfrey, was little second year Amalie Sprout, the Hufflepuff head of house's own niece, and a half-blood (her mother was a Muggle). She was Petrified.

Ginny felt her limbs shaking as she stared at the girl. She really was no more than a little girl, meek and impish with mousy brown hair. Ginny looked down at her hands. They were clean and Ginny had been with Blaise for the past hour. That cleared her, right? But a nagging little voice at the back of her head was telling her that she slept restlessly right before Blaise had come and woken her. What if she hadn't been sleeping entirely?

Finally someone noticed the trembling pale red-head standing off to the side. It was Professor Sprout. Her fly-away grey hair practically bristled with hatred as she set eyes on Ginny, who looked frightened and guilty.

She pointed one podgy finger at Ginny, her normally good-natured face scrunched into a blubbering, flowing mess as tears swept down her cheeks. "You!" she hissed through gritted teeth. Numb, Ginny could only stare emptily at her accuser as the other teachers went silent.

"You did it! You did it last time and now you're back to do it again!" Sprout screeched, pulling out her wand and launching herself at Ginny. Ginny was too far gone to even move as the short, plump witch ploughed into her, knocking her to the ground. Ginny's head hit the stone with a crack and stars popped before her eyes.

She could hear voices screaming and shouting and felt something pulling and tearing at her. All she saw, lying listless and as if dead in the cot, was the little girl she might be responsible for Petrifying.

Struggling to fight the blackness creeping in at the corners of her vision, Ginny shook her head roughly and latched on to consciousness with both hands. A heavy weight was lifted from her stomach and suddenly McGonagall's face popped up in front of hers.

Her mouth was set in a grim line as she shook Ginny's shoulders. "Ms. Weasley? Ms. Weasley, can you understand me?" she asked, shaking Ginny roughly. Ginny was on the verge of answering when McGonagall's next words tore into her. "Ms. Weasley, is that you?" Ginny's jaw went slack, her unspoken words tumbling off her lips and falling uselessly to crash onto the cold stone floor.

A single tear dropped from Ginny's left eye, following after the words. McGonagall must have seen something in her eyes because she let Ginny go suddenly and sat back, nearly tripping over her robes.

Ginny wondered what her head of house had seen in her eyes as she was escorted up to Dumbledore's office. Had she seen something bad? Had she seen Riddle? Ginny's countenance grew paler by the second as she and McGonagall tromped up to see Dumbledore, who, unsurprisingly, already knew about the incident.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ginny barely felt the chair beneath her as McGonagall sat her down in it across the seat from Dumbledore. Ginny felt a faint stab of familiarity at the situation, so similar to the one she'd had at the beginning of the year when Dumbledore had asked her to help Pansy.

This time Dumbledore's face was set in a grim masque as he studied her. Nervous, and wondering if Dumbledore would really see his arch nemesis in her eyes, Ginny turned her gaze down, heat flushing her cheeks as she felt Dumbledore continue to stare at her.

"So, Ms. Weasley. No doubt you have noticed the similarity of these recent attacks to the ones back in your first year?" Ginny didn't reply, just stared studiously at the floor. Dumbledore was undeterred. "And surely you have come to some conclusion yourself to explain these happenings?" Ginny's heartbeat sped painfully. He thought it was her. And she had no way to disprove anything he might accuse her of. She had no alibi that anyone but she herself could confirm. Madame Pomfrey had been in the library, delivering a cough potion to Madame Pince. Blaise had only been with her barely an hour before the attack was discovered.

"And no doubt you've realized that this means there is another basilisk running loose around the castle. Another Heir of Slytherin opening the Chamber of Secrets." Ginny was startled into glancing up with wide eyes. She hadn't thought about the basilisk part. Of course Harry had killed the last one.

"And unfortunately, the only students we know of with the gift of Parseltongue is Mr. Potter…and yourself." Ginny jolted, fear returning to run rampant through her veins. She hastened to clear herself of suspicion. "I-I'm no Parseltongue." She stammered. Dumbledore gave her a kindly disbelieving look. "I'm afraid I have to disagree, Ms. sWeasley. Did you never wonder at the way you seemed to have changed since your first year? When Harry destroyed Riddle, your life force came back so fast that a bit of Riddle's own came with it. You have some of Tom Riddle in you, Ms. Weasley, no matter how much you try to ignore it." The man was oddly blunt, as though angry with her in some way. Ginny was astonished. She had always tried to ignore the way snakes seemed to obey her command ever since the incident in her first year. She tried to ignore the impulses to enjoy the cold and dampness of the Potions dungeons. She tried not to notice how mush she seemed to like silver and green over scarlet and gold. But it what Dumbledore was saying was true…

Ginny felt a heave hit her so hard in her stomach that she nearly threw up. Clasping a hand over her mouth, she tried to fend off the wave after wave of revulsion and hatred that hit her harder than anything she'd ever felt.

At that moment the door to Dumbledore's office banged open.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ginny was too busy trying not to vomit to wonder what the two Slytherins were doing in Dumbledore's office with their head of house right behind them.

From Professor Snape's cool and unabashed account of things to Dumbledore and Ginny, it appeared that Blaise had snuck from the hospital wing and rushed down to the Slytherin dungeons to tell Draco everything. The two had proceeded to scurry about the castle looking for Ginny. They had finally bumped into Snape who had accidentally let it slip where she was. He accompanied them as they headed up to the headmaster's office to tell him something vitally important.

Dumbledore was waiting expectantly as Draco caught his breath. "Sir-" he panted, breathing returning to normal "-it wasn't Ginny. Who did those things. Madame Pomfrey said Amalie Sprout was Petrified an hour and a half ago. Blaise can account for Ginny for the hour before they found the girl." Ginny sighed, knowing there was still the half an hour before that in which she would have no alibi and would be blamed.

"And I can account for the hour before that." His words took everyone but Blaise and Dumbledore by surprise. Dumbledore arched an eyebrow. "Really?" he asked, sounding somewhere between disbelief and amusement. "How so, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked kindly. Draco took a breath and glanced over at Ginny, pale and closed off to his right.

"I went up to the hospital wing to visit her." He said smoothly. Ginny gaped. Blaise looked away. Snape's nostrils flared. And Dumbledore smiled understandingly. "Now Mr. Malfoy. It seems you're a bit worried over Ms. Weasley's reputation, but is it really any excuse to lie?"

Draco looked at the floor, grimly. "What makes you think I'm lying, sir?" he said, meeting Dumbledore's eye steadily. Dumbledore smiled benevolently at him. "It's quite all right, Mr. Malfoy. I'm not accusing Ms. Weasley. I'm just concerned for her safety. I'm afraid your word cannot be held as concrete evidence as to Ms. Weasley's innocence in this matter. I appreciate your concern, but I think we can handle matters from here."

When Draco made no sign of moving, Dumbledore sighed. "Mr. Malfoy? Mr. Zabini? May I ask you to escort Ms. Weasley back to the hospital wing, please? I believe she has a nasty bruise on the back of her head that needs tending to."

Ginny had to hand it to the man as Blaise helped her up. He covered all his bases alright. She was torn between regret and admiration as she stumbled after Blaise. Draco was following silently, watching the familiar arm Blaise laid around her waist. Jealousy reared angrily and suddenly Draco found his arm muscles clenching.

He strode forward and tugged gently on Blaise's arm. Blaise turned and stared at Draco over his shoulder even as they all continued walking ahead. Draco pulled again, a bit more insistently this time. With a brief thoughtful glance, Blaise shot Draco a warning look and unwound his arm from Ginny's waist.

"Draco can take you from here. I have to go tell Pansy about all this." Admittedly the excuse was lame, but if Ginny saw through it (and knowing the girl's intuition, she probably had) she didn't object. Either that or was too lost in her own thoughts to say anything.

Swearing to kill Draco if there was a repeat of the last time, Blaise stepped off into the shadows. Ginny turned to Draco hesitantly, once more on unfamiliar grounds. She gave him one brief, appraising look before turning her back to him and beginning to walk towards the hospital wing again.

They were halfway there when Ginny suddenly stumbled. She had been so deeply immersed in her thoughts that she forgot to jump over the armoured foot in her path; one of the suits of armour had a sick sense of humour and a penchant for making mischief.

She flung her arms out in front of her to break her fall, closing her eyes. She never hit the ground. Instead, strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind, hauling her back against Draco. Breathing strongly Ginny reopened her eyes. She squirmed a bit to get out of Draco's grasp and surprisingly, he let her go.

Ginny took a few steps away just to make sure he was keeping his distance. They resumed walking in silence. Draco started unnoticeably when she suddenly spoke. "Thank you." She whispered, half grudgingly. He smirked. "Don't worry. I assume you don't trip over your own feet too often…for a Weasley." He couldn't resist the dig at her family name. She didn't say anything, however, only shook her red head.

"Not about the fall…though I do appreciate that…I mean for trying to help up in Dumbledore's office." She amended. Draco snorted. "Didn't work, though, did it?" he snarled a bit roughly. That was supposed to be his moment to gain her trust and confidence and gratitude…and that stupid old bat Dumbledore had to go ruin it all for him. His dreams had gotten worse after the few kisses he'd managed to steal from her. They hit him almost every night with such blinding reality and intensity that he woke every night drenched in sweat with the bed sheets tangled around his legs.

To his even greater surprise, Ginny stopped and turned to face him, self-consciously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It was one of the shorter ones that refused to stay tucked in place and she was constantly fiddling with it. Draco found it quite sexy and far too distracting.

She grinned up at him wryly. "It's the thought that counts. You did something kind for someone else." She said, working up to something. Draco was wary; she had already used the foul word 'kind' in conjunction with him. "So?" he asked suspiciously as she stepped closer, staring down at her feet.

"So, thank you." She said, lifting up to the very tips of her toes and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. Even so, Draco closed his eyes in bliss and bit on the inside of his lower lip to keep from moaning. Ginny pulled away, a bit red in the face and looking entirely too beautiful at the moment.

Draco constrained his arms down to his sides, willing the unnatural flush rising on the back of his neck to go away. It wasn't working, but at least Ginny hadn't noticed and was already turning in the opposite direction.

"Why'd you do it?" she asked suddenly. Draco stared at her back, swaying as she walked steadily ahead. Yet her ears were perked, waiting for his answer. And what answer would that be, precisely? Draco was entirely uncertain.

Ginny turned her face. "You were lucky Dumbledore was so lenient. You lied to him and he knew it." She said matter-of-factly. Draco scowled. "How was I to know he'd see I was lying? I was just trying to help you…"

Ginny whirled at his words, her brow pulled down over puzzled eyes. "But why? Why were you trying to help me? I'm a Weasley. And a Gryffindor. Why are you so determined to ferret your way into my life? What do you want?" she asked, her voice rising in frustration.

Draco stared at her, her dazzling eyes and the funny way blood rose blotchily to her cheeks when she got angry. "I've already told you- I want you." He said, completely astonished at the softness in his voice.

Ginny let out a raging scream of irritation, fisting her hands and looking very eager to clock him. Draco intervened. Grabbing hold of her wrists, he pulled her to him. Ginny's eyes immediately flew open as she tried to step back. And things had been going so well…

"Malfoy, let me go. We've been through this so many times. You can't have me. Just leave off, yeah?" she said firmly, squashing any trace of rampant fear and heart-pounding something from her voice.

Draco stared silently at her. How could he tell her? How could he possibly explain that he had to have her? That he wanted her? He wasn't accustomed to not getting what he wanted and now was certainly no time to start becoming accustomed. He tried to tell her…to tell her the dreams he had of her; dreams like he'd never had of any girl before. But his mouth refused to work and his eyes fell on her lips.

Ginny knew it was coming a moment before it hit. She could always read it in his eyes; they way they hardened to an almost steel grey. She tried to brace herself for the rough crash of his lips on hers and the muscles of her arms bunched under his touch.

Her eyes squeezed shut and her lips pursed in anticipation. Ginny's eyes shot open in shock as his lips gently touched her jaw. She glanced down and saw that his eyes were closed in what looked like concentration and bliss.

Intrigued, she relaxed against him and watched how he moved. His body had a sort of feline grace that was at once both frighteningly powerful and terribly sensual. His hands were sliding almost unnoticeably along her waist around to her back and she felt the slight pressure he was exerting in pulling her closer to him. His lips gently touched hers and with a tired silent sigh, she let her eyes slip shut.

Draco's heart was hammering millions of miles per minute. This was it. That illusive thing girls were always referring to with stars in their eyes and heavy weights in their hearts. This was the thing that his mother would slur about when she got really hammered after one of Lucius' beatings. Draco had been concentrating so hard for so long on getting what he wanted, getting her, making her fall in love with him, that he had missed something vital…something that was wrenching at his chest in a most unfamiliar way…

Somewhere along the road of trying to get Ginny Weasley to fall for him, he had fallen for her.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Pansy was a storm. Crackling fire and lightning angrily, she swept through the hallways, fuming black clouds. First years ran away, frightened, but she ignored them. Blaise really was an idiot.

"What the bloody hell did you think you were doing?" she shouted to the footsteps behind her as they tried to catch up with her furious pace. Panting behind her, Blaise scrambled up the stairs after her. "Just-trying-to help-Draco." He breathed heavily, nearly collapsing on the stairwell.

Pansy shot him a glare over her shoulder. "You forget the bastard's been harassing her all year, or what?" she asked, keeping worry tucked away until she found Ginny. Perhaps she was just overreacting…after all, she had no reason to think that Draco was doing anything to-

Pansy tripped over her feet. Righting herself and holding a hand out to stop Blaise, the two of them stared in abhorrent shock. It took them both a few seconds of flapping their mouths like dying fish before either of them could work up the strength to say anything, which they did in unison.

"Er…Draco…what are you-"

"Ginny, what the feck?"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ginny pulled away suddenly, heaving in breaths and struggling to pull herself completely out of Draco's hold. He simply wasn't cooperating, however, and the farthest she got was arm's length away. Pansy was staring agape at her, an expression that said quite plainly "oh feck no".

Almost apologetically, Ginny wormed her way out of Draco's grasp, which had suddenly gone limp. Once she was a decent distance away, she saw why. Blaise was giving Draco a look that could have made Snape check to see if he'd wet himself.

Ginny slid one foot backward and then the other, slipping quietly from the hallway. As soon as she was out of the way, she darted down the hallway as fast as her feet could carry her, all the while her brain was pumping out one single question that brought flaming heat to her cheeks.

Why had she been willingly kissing Draco Malfoy?

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Draco shifted his weight, staring at a point under Pansy's left ear. He could still feel them both glaring at him, but he tried not to let them know that…if only his knees would stop shaking…

Pansy was the first to break the silence. "Alright Malfoy, what did you do to her? Love Potion? Imperius? If you altered with her memory, I'll have your goods on a silver platter, stuffed down your decapitated throat, you sorry, pig-" Blaise waved his wand discreetly and though her mouth continued moving, no sound came from Pansy.

Draco was staring at the muted Pansy (who had no idea her extreme foul-mouthed reprimands were going unheard) openly before Blaise smacked him on the back of the head. That got his attention.

"What the feck, Zabini?" he muttered, rubbing his head and wincing. Blaise stared stonily at him. "_Did_ you do something to her, Malfoy?" he asked, all seriousness and rigidity. Draco scowled heavily. "Of course not, you flaming prat!" he snapped, ignoring Pansy's silent rebuff. Blaise grabbed Draco by the collar and carried him away from Pansy, still mouthing off at Draco.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Draco's back slammed into the wall so hard that a few bits of crumbling stone spattered to the floor behind him. Letting out a whoompf of breath, he slumped for a moment, held up only by Blaise's fist at his throat.

He glared up at Blaise. "What the feck's your problem, Zabini?" Blaise let him go, stepping back a few steps and glancing down the hallway. Pansy hadn't followed them. He turned back to Draco, who was rubbing his throat.

"You do realize Pansy will kill you if she finds out what you did to Ginny?" he asked evenly. Draco scowled. "I didn't do anything!" he exclaimed, fisting his hands at his sides. Blaise's look wasn't exactly one of absolute belief.

Draco growled. "She kissed me first." He proclaimed truthfully. Blaise arched an eyebrow. "On the cheek. Then I kissed her…and she didn't freak out on me, so I didn't stop…" Blaise arched the other eyebrow, looking absolutely comical.

Draco scowled. "Is it so bloody difficult to believe that a girl might want to kiss me?" he growled. Blaise put on a pensive look on his face and opened his mouth. Draco rolled his eyes and held his hand up. "Don't answer that." He muttered, trudging off in the opposite direction. Things had been going perfectly…she'd been kissing him! Well, not quite…but he'd been kissing her and he was still alive! That was a major historical breakthrough…

Damn bloody sodding friends…


	20. Problems in Paradise

**Author's Note: **Back. This is the worst jumping around ever. I hope it makes sense, and if not, feel free to bombard me with angry questions. It sucks, I know, and I have no idea why I wrote it this way. I just want this story to die.

**Disclaimer: **It's mine if it's not J.K.Rowling's. One phrase: _Who did not know the whole story before the end of the day?_ I think is from Shakespeare. I can't remember which one.

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**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter Twenty: Problems in Paradise

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**

Ginny stifled a yawn behind her hand as Profesor Flitwick twittered away about some Charm for producing a web-like net. It was a difficult charm, because one had to charm all the cross-lines into being secure and holding up with the others.

The classroom was unbearably hot for late October and Ginny was fanning herself with her copy of her Divination book, the only real use it was.

A hissed whisper caught her ear and her attention. Stirring from her half-slumber, Ginny turned her head to where two Hufflepuffs were deep in a secretive-looking conversation. They were gesturing to Ginny and talking and it wasn't until one looked up that she realized they'd been noticed.

Once they knew Ginny had seen them, they turned back to their tables quickly, averting their eyes and yet stealing corner-of-the-eye glances in an almost nervous fashion. For a heart-stilling moment Ginny's mind brought up her first year and the way people had treated Harry because of what they thought he was.

What if someone had found out her problems? Her fears? Her deepest, blackest, most evil of all secrets? What was she to do? What could she do? Anything?

"Miss Weasley!" Ginny jumped, her eyes flicking open in surprise. She felt the entire class's gaze at her back, heating her face and ears with rushing red blood as her embarrassment subsided enough for her to realize that Professor Flitwick had been trying to get her attention for the past few moments.

"Yes, Professor?" Ginny asked timidly, ignoring (or at least, trying to) the hisses at her back. Flitwick huffed in indignation and straightened his glasses. "I said, Miss Weasley, would you care to demonstrate to the class the Web Effect?"

This was a command and Ginny knew it. She took a deep breath, forgetting the blood pounding in her ears and the nerves rattling in her body. "Yes sir." She said steadily, calling on the words the Professor had taught them for this particular charm.

"Atalashi." She stated calmly, waving her wand in a series of complex twist, turns, and underloops, almost tying invisible knots in the air. "Fini." She said, calling off the spell and giving her wand a quick jerk back.

Professor Flitwick had to admire the charm, even if it did knock him on his arse.

He struggled with the thick net for a few moments, in which Ginny took her seat and went back to daydreaming, her hand automatically taking notes. She failed to realize that while the Professor was busy with the net, the rest of the class was passing notes and speaking in frantic hushed voices.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Blaise poked Draco. "Oi, wake up, Malfoy." He hissed quietly. Draco's head stayed on his desk, but his hand rose slowly in a rude gesture. Unfortunately, said gesture was noticed by Professor McGonagall, who had been walking up and down the desks checking on the stones they were transfiguring into hoops of bronze.

"Mister Malfoy!" she scolded, making him jerk up from his seat and whip on his best innocent look. It wasn't very convincing. "Malfoy, I'm not sure how Professor Snape deals with his students, but I for one, do not condone that kind of obscenity." She said, her mouth pulled into a tight line.

Draco's answer of 'what kind of obscenity do you condone?' was a decent way of getting two week's work of detention. Blaise also received detention for his outburst of laughter during McGonagall's rant against Draco.

Even as they were walking towards their next class, Blaise was constantly stopping to crack up hysterically. After a good eight times, Draco cracked. "Blaise, shut it!"

Blaise snorted; Draco cast a Silencing Charm on him. Looking very smug and self-satisfied, and very Malfoy, Draco trudged ahead, down the hallways and up several flights of stairs to his Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

He had gotten literally no sleep last night. He kept remembering that kiss and the way her body…he closed his eyes, trying to stop thinking about it. This was so not like him. So un-Malfoyish. How could he possibly have convinced himself even for half a second that he could ever be in love? Pathetic; momentary weakness brought on by getting what he wanted.

Sodding hormones…

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ginny slung her book bag under the very back cot in the Hospital Wing. "Hello? Madame Pomfrey?" she called out softly. To her immense shock, no bustling footsteps sounded in the stillness of the darkened room.

Madame Pomfrey's office was empty and Evangel was nowhere to be found. Feeling a little edgy, Ginny took a few slow, deep breaths to calm herself. "Hello?" she called again, stepping out into the wing.

Silence.

The wing was strangely empty…save for the two closed cots Ginny knew to hold victims of the basilisk. A chill was creeping up her spine and she couldn't stop it. Why was the room so dark, anyway? It was overcast outside, the sun blotted out by angry black clouds. The forest was dark and foreboding as always, off in the distance. The torches in the room were unlit, their flames extinguished.

Purposefully.

Ginny was fidgeting with a ring on her finger, twisting it around anxiously. Where was everyone? "Hello?" she called shakily, moving backwards to the door, her book bag forgotten.

Something was definitely not right here. Ginny could feel it in the race of fright shooting through her almost painfully. Her breath was coming short and she darted around, expecting something to be lurking behind her. Metallic, bitter fear and disgust was rising in the back of her throat and she covered her mouth with her hand, suddenly feeling sick.

Something was dreadfully wrong. Something had happened here and Ginny had the horrible, overwhelmingly terrifying feeling that she wasn't as alone as she thought she was.

"Hello, Ginny."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Professor Odekerk wasn't in the room when Draco and Blaise entered it. Seventh year Ravenclaws and Slytherins were roaming and whispering in hushed voices. Draco set down his things, motioning for Blaise to follow, which he did.

Draco made his way over to a group of Slytherins he knew to be on his side, keeping clear of Crabbe and Goyle and their group. He pulled up next to a lanky man with toffee-coloured skin and long dark brown hair that would have made him look feminine if it weren't for the muscles that could back his masculinity and the eyes that could make third years wet their pants.

Blaise nudged aside a thin girl, giving her white hair a tug. She glared at him with the same astounding violet-blue eyes that, when widened innocently, kept her off the teacher's troublemakers radar. Draco turned to the dark boy, who stopped tugging on the phoenix feather earring dangling from one ear to look at him.

They made an almost indiscreet nod to one another, indicating a temporary truce. The dark boy, Darrenello Mulcetto, but Daren to anyone who liked to avoid pain, spoke, pulling Draco, and Blaise, by association, into their conversation.

"Odekerk hasn't shown up at all yet." He informed them, his voice low and even and commanding almost the same amount of respect as Draco's did. The pale, white-haired girl who Blaise had nudged came to Daren's side, slipping easily into his arms. Her voice was higher than Daren's and clear.

"That Ravenclaw bastard Alen was spewing on about something important Professor Sprout had confided in him with." She scoffed, shaking her white head. "Sprout's so damned about this she'd tell anyone who listened."

A stocky boy with sandy-blonde hair nodded in agreement. "She was goin' on abou' it in Herbology this mornin'." He said, Irish-coloured accent creeping through. Blaise arched an eyebrow. "Going on about what?" he asked.

The white-haired girl turned her gaze to him and locked with his. "Don't you know?" she asked, part curiosity, part iciness, part scorn. "After all, aren't you dating the pretty little thing these days? Or is it just for shags?" her pretty voice was malicious and wicked and her delicate mouth turned up in a pixy-like smirk.

Daren grinned coolly and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Brinters, you've got to learn not to be such a bitch." He whispered. She flicked her eyes up to him lazily. "Who're you to talk about being a bitch?" she asked, bringing her lips to his.

Draco rolled his eyes. Daring Daren and Malevolent Mal…Slytherins were so fucked up…

Blaise cleared his throat. "The Weasley girl?" he asked. The girl, Maleva Brinters, broke away and nodded in affirmation. "Sprout's been spreading word that the Weasley bint set the monster from the Chamber of Secrets on her niece. The only people who haven't heard it are the ones who haven't had Herbology yet."

"Them and the teachers." Adrenna Riley added, retying her scarf around her neck.

"I'm not dating her." Blaise piped up. The Slytherins ignored him. Maleva just smirked. "Just screwing her, right?" she sneered. Daren squeezed her hand. "Darling, you look so frightfully awful when you sneer." Maleva just kissed him again.

"I'm not screwing her either." This got attention. Maleva even broke off from Daren, giving Blaise a quizzical, searching look. "Then what, pray tell, are you doing hanging around trash like that?" she asked spitefully.

Draco's mouth hardened into a firm line. Blaise glanced at him momentarily. "One; you really should try to get away from such Voldemort-era thinking as that. Two; she's not trash in any form. Three; _I'm_ not interested in her." He said, turning pointedly to Draco, who just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

Maleva and a brown-haired girl turned to Draco two pair of shocked eyes. "You?" the brown-haired girl, Delia, asked in astonishment. She'd spent a few nights in his bed and knew how picky he was.

"What on earth for?" Maleva asked, toying with Daren's fingers absentmindedly. Draco shrugged, feeling unfit to answer. Daren was giving him a strange, and almost knowing look. Draco tore his gaze from the other man's and turned his back to them, returning to his seat. Blaise followed.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Blaise whispered as he took his seat next to Draco. Draco shrugged, carelessly. "You remember how our second year was with Potter?" an evil grin formed on Draco's lips. "Oh, do I remember…" he said, smirking even wider.

Blaise frowned, waving a hand in front of Draco's face, calling him out of his reveries. "You do realize that's not a good thing? People will act just the same to Weasley, if not worse." Draco stared at him blankly. "Can you honestly tell me you wouldn't blink an eye if she were scorned by the school? I understand you revelling in Potter's agony, but hers?"

Draco scoffed. "Why not?" Blaise's eye widened and his mouth fell open. "Don't you give a damn about the girl?" he finally asked after a period of silence. Draco rolled his eyes, pulling an open book up in front of his face. Angrily, Blaise pulled the book down.

"You don't care? Not at all?" Blaise asked, disgust showing in his face. Draco was saved from having to answer by Odekerk's long-overdue arrival. She swept into the room, nearly stumbling over her cloak in her haste. Her hair brushed about her face and her pale cheeks were flushed with colour.

She sat down in her chair heavily, leaning back, a look of horror and sickness on her face.

"There's been a murder."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………(this is the night after whatever happened previously)

_Who did not know the whole story before the end of the day?_

The students had only been pulled into the Great Hall for the night one other time; in Draco and Blaise's third year when that lunatic Sirius Black had managed his way into the school to try and kill Potter.

He had failed and Draco had spent an uncomfortable night in a squishy purple sleeping bag. It was not an experience he wanted to repeat. Nevertheless, by the end of the day, every student was situated in the same room, in the same kind of squishy purple sleeping bags.

Draco huffed for the third time that night, rolling over. Adrenna Riley was staring at him with her big chocolate eyes. They reminded him of someone else with brown eyes…ones he preferred over any others…stop it Malfoy, you're starting to sound lovesick…

Adrenna shifted her bag closer to Draco's, drawing her head closer to his. "What have you heard?" she whispered, making sure McGonagall was on the other side of the room. Draco shrugged. "Only that a teacher was killed and that a student is in the hospital."

Adrenna glanced up as Millicent scooted her bag over to theirs. "I was just talking to Mal." She said, ignoring Draco. "She said that Pansy _is_ in the Hospital Wing, but she's not the one who was hurt."

"Who was?" Blaise asked, crawling up to their small group. Snape pretended he didn't see them as he walked by. Millicent bent her head down. "Mal said Daren's cousin in Gryffindor was there. It was the Weasley girl. She's in the hospital wing."

Draco's stomach dropped.

……………………………………………………………………………………………(this is back to the scene with Ginny in the infirmary)

Ginny gasped and whirled around.

What she saw made her heart seize so painfully she thought it would burst. Her breath choked in her throat and she sunk to her knees, struggling to breathe. That high-pitched laughter, those maniacal eyes, that cold, cold, body.

She shivered and squeezed her eyes shut as cool fingers brushed the back of her exposed neck. "My lovely Ginny. Surely you haven't forgotten me?" Ginny knew she would hurt if she didn't answer him, but she clamped her mouth shut anyway.

The fingers tangled in her hair and ripped it up. Ginny's eyes shot open as pain sliced through her skull. She went completely numb as stared into dark eyes rimmed with hatred, evil, and a sick kind of love.

"I know you remember me. You do remember me, Ginny, don't you?" he asked, sliding one finger down her neck. Refusing the tears forming in her eyes, Ginny nodded, shrinking away from him. "Then who am I?" he asked, crouching down to look her in the face.

Ginny was shaking now as a hand ran up her arm, cradling her neck and squeezing her throat in a hint of a threat. "Who am I, Ginevra?" he demanded. Ginny let out his name in a gasp.

"Tom."

"That's right."

……………………………………………………………………………………………(this is a switch back to the evening after the events in the infirmary)

Draco was speechless. Blaise kept sending him worried glances as he talked with the two girls. "Who was the teacher?" he asked. Riley tugged at her scarf, as she did when she was upset. "It was Madame Pomfrey." She said harshly, as if to spit it out would be to make it hurt less.

"Serves the old cow right." Draco said unthinkingly. He was unconscious for the rest of the conversation with a large bump on the back of his head.

"Does anyone know what happened?" Blaise asked. Millie shrugged her shoulders. "No one but the Weasley girl, I suppose."

"Was she there when it happened?" Adrenna whispered.

"Well, she must have been, mustn't she? It's too much of a coincidence that there would be two separate attacks in one day."

"What happened to them?"

"Who?"

"Madame Pomfrey and Ginny."

"Oh so she's Ginny now?"

"You sure you're not shagging her?"

"Bugger off, Riles."

"Ooh, not very friendly."

"Gods, you sound like Draco."

"Will you two shut up?"

"Quick, Odekerk's coming this way."

The three of them lay down quickly, feigning sleep as Odekerk's boots clicked on the stone floor solemnly. Silence echoed all around them as her footsteps disappeared over to the other side of the Great Hall to reprimand some Gryffindors who were talking.

Blaise raised his head a few inches. "What happened to them?" he repeated cautiously.

Millicent shrugged. "Pomfrey was killed. That's all I know."

"Do they know who did it?"

"Well, it's pretty obvious, isn't it?" Adrenna asked quietly. "It's like second year all over again, isn't it?" The three of them stayed silent for the rest of the night, each delving deep in thought and then into sleep.

…………………………………………………………………………………………(this is still the evening after, but in a different part of the Great Hall)

Hermione glanced up from her sleeping bag.

"McGonagall's gone." She whispered, propping herself up on her elbows. "Finally." Harry muttered, pulling himself half out of his bag. Ron stayed on his side, his face pale and worn.

"Ron, I'm sure she'll be alright." Hermione reassured him for the twelfth time that day. Harry lay on his back, staring up at the enchanted ceiling like he had four years ago. He wasn't worried about revenge at the moment, though. He was worried about Ginny.

The days seemed to stretch between them and he still hadn't gotten any closer to talking with Blaise or to getting any closer to Ginny. And now this. He hadn't been this achingly scared in his second year when Ginny had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets. Yet now his heart felt like it was being ripped from his chest.

"Poor Madame Pomfrey." Hermione mused, trying to get Ron's mind off Ginny. Harry rolled over to look at her. "What do you think happened to them?" he asked. Hermione looked thoughtful, but hesitant. "Go on, Hermione." He urged. "Well…you heard what Professor Sprout was saying this morning…" she trailed off as Ron turned his back to them. They could hear him grinding his teeth.

Hermione sighed. "Ron, I don't think it's Ginny attacking people either, but you have to admit it is a lot like what happened in second year." She reasoned. Harry interrupted her. "So you think it's Voldemort again?" Hermione only barely flinched this time. "Well…that's the only immediate explanation." She mused.

Harry frowned. "But I destroyed Riddle's diary. He was gone." Hermione looked around hesitantly again. "What if you were wrong?" she asked, apparently having put some thought into the matter, as only she could. "What if there was a piece of Riddle still in the diary?"

Harry was silent for a long time. By the time he'd figured out what to say, everyone in the Great Hall was asleep, including him.

………………………………………………………………………………………(attention: this is _before_ what happens in the hospital wing)

Pansy grumbled something unintelligible, rising obediently from her bed to feed the wailing Evangel. She was beginning to regret having asked Pomfrey to let her keep the child overnight. She was supposed to be in Transfiguration with the other Slytherins now. But something…something strange had happened Sunday night. She'd had the most horrible feeling…strong and clear…painfully so.

She couldn't let Evangel go. She'd gotten permission to keep stay with her until Ginny came to get her. And now she was rather wishing she hadn't. Yawning, she uncapped the potion bottle with the milk-like substance in it and leaned over Evangel's crib.

The bottle fell and shattered to the floor, accompanied by Pansy's gasp.

"Merlin's staff!" she exclaimed, bringing a hand to her mouth as her eyes widened. Evangel sneezed once more, issuing golden bubbles from her mouth and ears. Tears of bronze squeezed from her eyes as she shook her fisted hands in aggravation.

"Good Salazar!" she breathed, scooping up the baby in her swaddling clothes and hurrying with her out the door, letting it bang shut behind her.

…………………………………………………………………………………………(this is what happens in the hospital wing with Ginny)

Ginny picked herself up from the floor again. Her ribs creaked and she doubled over in pain. She must have broken one this time. It was good that her right eye was swollen shut; she could feel blood trickling over it and it was difficult enough dodging what blows she could see as it was.

Snake-soft slithering snorts of laughter brought the bile back into her throat. "Did you really think you could run from me forever?" Tom asked, running a hand through his black locks.

Ginny coughed, her lungs protesting wearily. Blood spattered the floor and for a moment, her vision spun so dizzyingly she thought she would surely fall for the last time. Squeezing her eyes shut, she locked her elbows and braced herself.

"No." she answered shortly. Where was everyone? Tom laughed. "Then why don't you answer me?" he asked, his voice high and cold, just as she remembered it. Ginny sucked in a breath of cold air that stung her lips and gums and even her teeth, which began to chatter. She could feel him walking around behind her, circling, waiting for her response.

"I hate you." She whispered. The foot nearly broke her back and she crumpled to the floor. She wasn't going to get up this time. Her breath was coming shorter and shorter and blackness was creeping in on the corners of her vision. She reached out an arm, trying to pull herself forward.

"You don't, Ginny." She was crying now; she knew what was coming and this time it was not in her head. "You love me." She felt his hands pulling her up, to her feet. His face was swimming closer and closer to hers.

Somewhere nearby a door creaked open.

Ginny felt the hands holding her up disappear and let her go. Her knees buckled and she fell to the floor. Green flashed across her eyes, nearly blinding her, and the last thing she heard before she hit the floor was 'Avada Kedavra'. Then all went black.

………………………………………………………………(back to Pansy, carrying on until after what happens in the infirmary: all the scenes should be meshing together soon)

Pansy sank back in her chair, breathing out a sigh of relief. That had to be the most trying and nerve-wracking two hours of her entire life and she was nearly exhausted from the exertion of worrying. How fretful one had to be when one was a parent…it would be so much easier if mothers weren't so frantic. Unfortunately, she had been entirely too frenzied to listen to reason or sense.

"Thank the gods." She breathed, running a hand through her mussed hair. Evangel was now gurgling happily in a basket on Dumblebore's desk, playing with Fawkes' tail feathers.

Dumbledore was watching the scene with the hint of a smile on his wizened face. "She'll be alright then?" Pansy asked for about the tenth time. Dumbledore just smiled benevolently with all the understanding of the ages and replied with the same answer he'd given her nine times before.

"It's only a Demonition. It happens to all young wizards at one point or another; some earlier, some later. I recall your mother sending me a frantic owl fifteen years ago stating that you were levitating a foot off the ground and going purple. It is, as a fact, quite normal, though it varies from witch to witch; wizard to wizard. You have nothing to fear for your child."

Pansy sighed again. "Why haven't I ever heard of a Demonition?" she asked, tucking Evangel's blanket around her. Dumbledore glanced over his moon-shaped glasses at her. "Most wizarding families know of Demonitions from previous experience or as a fact passed through the generations. Most Demonitions aren't that abnormal. Mr. Potter levitated, Ms. Patil made the wind shift, Mr. Weasley made a spider explode, Ms. Riley made her next door neighbour's cat explode…" he trailed off, sounding amused for some strange reason.

Pansy nodded, holding out a finger for Evangel to drool over. The baby had stopped issuing strange objects and was now in a magnificent mood, thanks to a little Pepper-Upper potion courtesy of Madame Pomfrey, who had bustled off after glancing at her pocket watch, muttering something about being late and telling someone what had happened.

Pansy would rather less people know about her baby. It was becoming a touchy subject. Just the other day Blaise had asked if Eve was putting on weight. Pomfrey had reluctantly replaced his mouth after a good deal of consideration.

"Well, thank you ever so much, sir." Pansy said, flipping her hair over her shoulder and leaning down to pick up Evangel's basket. It was in that moment that Professors Snape and Odekerk burst into the room. Snape looked pale and slightly agitated; Odekerk looked sick and sallow.

"Albus, Poppy's dead."

……………………………………………………………………………………………(before Madame Pomfrey dies)

Odekerk glanced at the silver watch dangling from her wrist. If she hurried, she'd just have enough time to meet him. She tucked his note back into her pocket and took off. She was glad she'd worn her flat boots today as she flew down the hallway towards their destination point; an old Charms classroom now out of use.

Merlins's staff! She felt just like a giddy little teenager schoolgirl. Bloody off her rocker, she was. She had to admit it. And she didn't give a damn. Heart pounding with anticipation, she rushed around the corner.

Checking both ways, she slipped into the third door on the right, closing it behind her. "Colin?" she whispered, blinking to adjust her eyes; there were no lights. She felt his presence before she felt him slide something soft over her eyes and tie it behind her head.

A smile formed on her lips. "Colin?" she asked. His hands slipped around her waist, holding her gently. "Yes?" he asked, kissing her neck softly. "You can use my given name." she whispered, eyes drifting shut as his lips touched a sensitive point on her ear.

Colin pulled away and turned her around. "Lumos." He said, waving his wand before her face. Odekerk saw light coming through the cloth, but she couldn't see his face. Colin stared at her hard for a moment. Odekerk's heart was pounding in her ears so loudly she was sure Colin could hear every beat of it. Colin looked over her face, searching intently.

"Velixandre?" he asked. Odekerk closed her eyes behind the cloth, warmth spreading through her. Never before had her name sounded better. "Yes?" she finally answered.

"Love you."

"Oh."

"…"

"Colin, I-"

Velixandre's reply (whatever it was going to be-it had been unformulated in her mind when her mouth started talking) was cut off by thudding footsteps pounding past their door.

The blindfold was pulled off and Velixandre blinked as Colin rushed toward the door, opening it a crack and peering out. He whirled around. "It's Snape." Velixandre jerked her hand in a motion to get away from the door even as the door burst open.

Colin staggered back as Snape flew into the room, his robes sweeping around him and his pale face sweaty. He took a deep breath, stilling his breathing. "It's Poppy…she's dead."


	21. Pain and Confusion

**Author's Note: ** Warning: Major OOC-ness. I mean, it makes me sick. Really sick. I hate this story. Someone shoot it. Or me. Please?

**Disclaimer: **Not mine if it belongs to J.K.Rowling, if it doesn't, it is mine.

* * *

**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter Twenty-One: Pain and Confusion

* * *

**

Everything was white.

Ginny quickly closed her eyes, pain screaming sonnets in her head. Beyond that, she could almost make out the voices surrounding her. They were digging into her brain, slamming into her without mercy. Blackness once again filled her mind and her limbs went limp once more.

Pansy was the only one who noticed. Her hand tightened on Ginny's, shaking it urgently. "Ginny? Ginny?" she asked, voice rising as she tried in vain to wake her up again. Snape came over from the small conference of professors in the corner of the hospital wing to place a hand on Pansy's shoulder.

"Pansy…" he said, calling upon his unused resources of gentility. "…she's not waking up." He said carefully. Pansy's head slumped down onto the bed; she felt like screaming. She hadn't moved from Ginny's side since she'd followed Snape, Odekerk, and Dumbledore to the hospital wing and found her only real friend comatose and battered.

It was hell…like Erom all over again. Pansy was losing the only people who mattered to her. Tears were plastering the sheets to her face. "Why won't she wake up?" she rasped into the sheets.

Snape sighed, sinking onto the foot of the cot wearily. "We're not sure. With Poppy gone... her wounds have been healed…even without the expertise of Madame Pomfrey… she won't stir."

Pansy stared at her friend's face. "She doesn't want to wake up." She said softly. "It's too much for her." She whirled on Snape, ignoring the tears streaming down her face. "It was Him, wasn't it? Voldemort? He's the only one she's scared of. He did this…"

Snape shook his oily head. "It can't be. He's too weak…he hasn't been heard of for months." Pansy bit her lip, holding back more tears. "You do know what people will think, don't you?" he said suddenly. Pansy glanced up at him quizzically.

"Ginny's not attacking students." she said defensively. Snape sighed. "I know it's hard for you to understand, but-" Pansy leapt from her chair. "NO!" she screamed, making heads turn towards her. "I don't care what proof you have, she didn't do it! She didn't attack those students and she didn't kill Madame Pomfrey!"

Snape flinched and Pansy's jaw dropped open, her hand shaking as it came up to cover it. "That's it?" she breathed in the absolute silence. "You think she killed Madame Pomfrey?" The silence was all the answer she needed.

A tear fell from her cheek and landed on Ginny's palm. Slowly, as if in a dream, pale fingers curled over the teardrop. Pansy dropped to her knees by the bed, grasping the hand. "Ginny?" she asked, hope pounding in her chest like that which she had never had a chance for with Erom.

Ginny's eyes cracked open faintly, the lids swollen and bluish, bags forming under her eyes. Her head tilted back and a grimace of pain crossed her face. Her mouth opened, and dry, cracked, but no sound issued. Sweat formed on her brow as she struggled with words.

"D-d-id-n't..." she breathed with difficulty, hands fisting, veins popping from her neck and forehead "…k-kill…" Pansy placed her wand to Ginny's temple. "Stupefy." She whispered gently before Snape could stop her. Ginny's body relaxed and she sank back into a grateful sleep.

"I know, Ginny. I know."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

By Wednesday, everyone was talking of the events of Monday. Most of the rumours being passed around were incredibly wrong, but some were surprisingly accurate. Hart came Wednesday morning and sat down next to Hermione, who was reading the Daily Prophet, scanning it for news of the attack. There had been nothing printed on Tuesday and she was beginning to wonder what they were trying to hide.

Hart was scowling heavily as she sat down. "They still won't let me down to see her." She grumbled, stabbing at the sausage that appeared on her plate. "I'm her friend and they won't let me go see her."

Harry and Ron entered the Great Hall at that moment. Ron's ears were bright red and Harry looked like he was restraining Ron from once again doing something stupid. The sat down across from Hermione and Hart. Ron grabbed a scone and stuffed it angrily into his mouth.

"What now?" Hermione asked impatiently, setting down her newspaper. Ron, incapable of speech, nodded to Harry. He rolled his eyes. "Some Hufflepuff nitwits were talking about Ginny…saying she never recovered from our second year." Ron was growling around his scone now. "They think she's still trying to do the bidding of Voldemort…" Harry glanced worriedly at Ron "…they said she killed Madame Pomfrey."

Hermione looked up. "What?" she hissed. Harry nodded, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. "But she couldn't have…" Hart mused. Ron slammed his hand on the table, startling a few people. "Of course she couldn't have!" he exclaimed loudly. "It's ridiculous!"

He stormed off, bumping into a few Hufflepuffs on the way.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The hospital wing was absolutely silent.

No longer did Madame Pomfrey's snores pierce the silence from her office room. Everything sounded dead, lifeless. Draco slipped through the door to the hospital wing, letting it close gently. His bare feet found the stone floor freezing, but he made no noise as he made his way over to the closed-off cots.

Finding Ginny's, he sunk down into the chair that Pansy had been sitting in the day before. Draco's hand, pale and thin, snaked out and slipped into hers, paler and smaller. Her heart was beating regularly, but shallowly. Stupid chit…making him think he loved her…

Her eyelids were a deadly-looking purple, crimson veins streaking up to her eyebrows, one of which looking like it had been sewn together like cloth. Her lips were white and dry, the corners sore and red. Her entire face was white except for the edges of her nostrils and around her mouth and eyes. Her arms were limp and looked frail poking out awkwardly from the tent-like hospital gown.

Draco bent down, his face near hers. "Stupid cow. What have you done?" he whispered into her ear, smoothing her hair absent-mindedly. She didn't move. "Wake up." He commanded, patting her cheek. She still didn't move. This was ridiculous; there was nothing wrong with her. She was just stubbornly refusing to open her eyes. She was playing with him, just like before…making him feel things that weren't real.

"Come on, now Weasley, open your eyes and stop playing around." Her chest was barely rising with each breath. Annoyed, anger began running a wild path through Draco's veins as he grabbed her shoulders roughly. "Wake up!" he shook her shoulders, pulling her from the bed into a sitting position.

He stopped shaking her. Her head lolled back, unsupported, her mouth hanging slightly open; her arms hung limp by her sides. He looked at her, more vulnerable than he had ever seen her before. She looked so…pathetic.

Draco hated pathetic. "Weasley…" he hissed, rising from his seat and dragging her up with him. She was like a rag doll in his arms. "Weasley, wake up…" he held her up and tried standing her on her feet. Her legs wouldn't support her weight. "Ginevra Weasley, you'd better wake your arse up, or so help me Salazar…" he trailed off.

His heart was pounding…in his head for some reason. The roar of each beat was like that of a wave ending its life with a crash upon jagged rocks. She was starting to get on his nerves. "Wake up, damnit." He nearly yelled, his grasp tightening on her arms.

A tiny line appeared on her brow and her mouth turned down the slightest fraction. Growling angrily, Draco slid one arm under her back and without another word slapped her across the face. A small noise escaped Ginny's lips as a red handprint appeared on her cheek.

Draco pulled away, looking down at her expectantly. She was just as unconscious as before, her head rolling to the side. And suddenly, unpredictably, a tear appeared on her cheek. And even more unpredictably, it was not hers.

Draco dropped her in shock. Her body crumpled to the floor with a thump, one hand hitting the floor lifelessly. His hand was shaking as he lifted it to his face. His cheeks…they were wet.

He glanced down at her in horror. Her eyes were squeezed shut tightly and her hands fisted. Her legs were moving restlessly as if in a bad dream. Draco stepped back as her eyes flickered; once, twice, thrice…they opened on the fourth try.

But by then Draco was gone, and the door to the hospital wing was swinging shut lazily.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Blaise slammed his feet down onto the floor, standing from the chair he'd been sitting in for the past half an hour in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin common rooms. "That's it." He stated, swinging his cloak on. Riley looked up from her Potions homework.

"He's only been out there a few hours." She commented unemotionally.

"One; it's freezing out there, two; he's been out there all night. That's a few hours too long." He said, pulling on dragonhide boots. Riley put down her notes, turning her head to the large floor-to-ceiling window-mirror behind her, which showed a scene of the grounds outside since the dungeons were below ground. Blaise glanced up from tying his boots. "What is he doing out there?" he asked.

Riley turned back to him, tightening her scarf. "Still pacing. What's wrong with him?" she asked, scratching out something on her parchment. Blaise shrugged, getting to his feet. "He didn't tell me."

Delia leaned over the side of the chair she was in. "I think it has something to do with that Weasley chit. He's been acting weird every time someone mentions her. He beat up this little punk-arse fifth year Hufflepuff for calling the girl Voldemort's whore."

Riley shook her head. "But he didn't go running out in the snow trying to freeze himself to death then. I guarantee you, something's happened. Ten to one it has something to do with that Weasley girl." Delia shrugged, the strap of her brown top sliding off her shoulder.

Readjusting it, she went back to trying to hex off the beauty mark on her right cheek. Mal glanced over from combing Daren's hair by the fireplace. They really were a beautiful couple. Mal's eyes lit up a violet-cyan colour as she watched Delia.

"Would you stop?" she finally barked, reaching over and tugging at Delia's hand. The girl flashed her electric hazel eyes at her. "Stop what?" she spat. Mal narrowed her eyes, pulling Daren's long hair over his shoulder. "I like that mark." She said simply. "You hex it off, and I may have to kill you." She warned.

Delia rolled her eyes and out her wand away, waiting for a later time when Mal wasn't around. Blaise grinned and swept from the room. Life could be alright sometimes.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

Draco kicked viciously at a rock half covered in snow. It rose from the ground ten feet and flew another twenty before burying itself in a snow drift. His foot now throbbing painfully, Draco resumed pacing a hole in the ground.

"Impressive. You should have been a Beater."

Draco whirled around. Pansy was sitting, her legs crossed, on a petrified tree stump, an emerald scarf wrapped around her neck. Draco growled. He hadn't forgotten that one emasculating morning.

"What do you want, Parkinson?" he sneered. Pansy frowned. "I had to stop by the hospital wing this morning for something and guess who was wide awake?" Draco ignored her, sullenly pouting… in a mature way, of course.

"Weasley's conscious and doing relatively well. Except for one thing; the way she woke up has her very confused." Pansy said, examining her nails critically. Draco stayed silent.

"It really was very strange, the way she woke up…would you like to hear about it?" She didn't wait for his answer; he wouldn't have given it, anyway. "It seems she'd been in a dead sort of dreamless sleep when all of a sudden she felt this cracking pain on her face, like the bite of a thousand tiny Fire Crabs on her cheek." She stared at him pointedly, not quite glaring, but certainly not grinning cheerily.

"And then the oddest thing of all- she felt the strangest sensation…how did she put it…oh yes, like falling from a broom with a blindfold on. She woke after she hit the ground. Sporting a pretty bruise on her cheekbone, she is."

Draco felt a tiny prick of something indescribable in his chest that he pushed aside, still attempting to ignore her. Pansy was glaring at him now. "Well? Haven't you got something to say?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

Draco snarled at her. "Why should I have anything to say to you? And about the little Weasel at that?" Pansy's face flushed with anger. "I seem to recall you having quite a lot of interest in the little Weasel…but aside from that, I want to know what you did to her last night. I'm glad she's awake, but I don't bloody like the idea of you being alone with her late at night, especially with her unconscious, so spit it out."

Draco glared at her. "Who are you to tell me what to do?" Pansy frowned…but it was almost a disappointed frown, as if she'd been expecting more of him. Why should she? He was a Malfoy, after all.

Pansy stood, brushing snowflakes from her hair. "Well, excuse me, I thought perhaps you might have grown up a little. I was mistaken." She turned and stormed off, nearly running into Blaise.

The handsome black-haired boy stared after the angry woman before turning to Draco.

"What did I miss?"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Velixandre sighed as she slumped into her chair, resting her head on her desk. It had been such a long day…no, a long week was more accurate. She still couldn't believe one of their own was gone forever.

Poppy's body had been turned over to her sister just that morning and just seeing the shining maple coffin had pounded into Velixandre's brain that this was no nightmare…it was real. Even more real was Velixandre's duty of watching after some baby that was in Pomfrey's care for some reason or another…she really hoped it wasn't one of the other professor's love child. Without Pomfrey, the teachers were alternating watching the infant. Dumbledore had promised to explain, but he had greater things on his mind at the moment.

Someone was attacking and killing people and no one knew why. Dumbledore had given all but his right arm to keep news from getting out into circulation. Hogwarts had come so near to being shut down so many times…at this point, the Headmaster just wanted to get Harry Potter through his training and keep him safe as long as possible.

Although that might not be the best idea concerning the safety of everyone else. Velixandre had heard innumerable ideas as to what was happening to Hogwarts. There was one common one…having to do with Ginevra Weasley, surprisingly enough. The strong, well-liked girl was one Velixandre had least pinned for anything like this.

A soft noise startled her out of her seat, nearly knocking her chair over. Colin was sitting in one of the desks in the otherwise empty classroom, his arms crossed over his chest, and a dark scowl plastered on his face.

Heartbeat returning to normal, Velixandre strode over to her young lover.

"Oh, gods, I've had the most awful day. I can't believe-" she cut herself off, noticing how Colin was still glaring darkly at the seat in front of him. Velixandre sunk into the chair next to Colin, reaching out for his hand. "Colin, what is it?" she asked gently, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand.

He kept staring ahead, shock and disbelief etched into his face. "Is it about Madame Pomfrey?" she asked, guessing. A sudden thought popped into her head, which she immediately shoved down, though little slivers crept back into her mind and poked at her brain. Colin…upset…Pomfrey dead…Pomfrey's baby…with…Colin certainly wouldn't…but then again, he had no qualms about bedding teachers…

Deciding she was absolutely one hundred percent paranoid, she shook her head free of such thoughts and turned her whole attention to Colin, whose mouth had opened as if to speak, even if no words had come out yet.

"She did it."

Velixandre stared at him warily. "Who?" she asked gently. Colin barely breathed. "Ginny Weasley." Velixandre arched an eyebrow. "Ginny Weasley?" she asked.

Colin finally tore his gaze away from the distance he'd been staring off into. His eyes locked with Velixandre's and she started at the intense amount of hatred in them. It sent spikes of fear down her back.

"Ginny Weasley is the Heir of Slytherin, isn't she? She attacked some students in my first year and now she's doing it again." Velixandre nodded, a little surprised that Colin listened to gossip, but understanding all the same. Although she didn't remember that being in any of the gossip she had heard. It must be difficult. From what she knew, Ginny and Colin had always gotten along well enough.

"It's really not her fault, you know. Don't worry; as far as I can tell Dumbledore isn't going to hold her accountable for anything that's happened so far. She's going to be fine. She was alright the first time around, right?" she asked, trying to cheer him up and wondering what the underlying surge of anger in all this was.

Colin turned to her and Velixandre's stomach dropped; the look on his face told her she'd been dreadfully mistaken. Colin stood, staring at her with a look of mixed disgust and disappointment on his face. The anger was resurfacing and Velixandre had to remind herself that as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, she was not allowed to cower away from her students in fear.

"I should have figured. No one thinks she's responsible for any of this. She's just going to get away with this. What if I'm next, eh? What if she kills me or someone else? I don't know what sort of sick game she's playing or who she's doing this for, but I hope you lot feel guilty when one of us turns up dead next." He looked as if he was having difficulty stopping himself from spitting at her before he sneered at her and stormed off, banging the door as he left.

The classroom was utterly silent. Velixandre's tears came without a single sound and they carried on for the rest of the night.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Draco sighed. "What, Blaise?" he asked, letting his eyes slip closed. He jerked them open as the first thing that flitted across his mind's eye was an image of a banged-up Ginny Weasley hitting the floor.

Blaise was still staring off in the direction Pansy had stormed off in and he would have sworn the tracks she'd made in the snow were steaming. That girl had a lot of misplaced rage. Shaking his head, he turned to Draco.

"What have you been doing out here?" he asked, bringing his hands up to rub some warmth into his arms. Draco sneered. "None of your bloody bus-"

Silence followed his words as Blaise, uninterested, cast a silencing charm. "Shut up, Malfoy. I don't want to hear any more bullshit. Just tell me the bloody truth or I'll go find the Weaslette and get her to hex it out of you herself." He said, removing the spell.

Draco glared heartily at him for a full ten seconds before giving up and slumping down on a rock. "Fine. I went to see her, alright? I got carried away and woke her up and left. Big bloody deal, can I go home now?"

"You are home, nitwit."

"Can I go to my room then?"

"Sure, and make sure you brush your teeth well and wear some warm jim-jammers too, it's going to be cold tonight; do you want me to sing you to sleep or will your teddy bear be enough and…what are you, four!" he exploded. Draco looked very close to killing him.

"Do you care about her?" Blaise asked suddenly, all traces of mockery gone.

Draco scoffed. "Oh, now who's the child? What, are you really that naïve, or are we in some badly written romance novel?" he sneered.

"Well, you would know all about that, wouldn't you? What was it you were reading the other night…_Young, Restless Hearts of Passion and Lust; A Witch's Tale of Love and Devotion_?" Blaise sneered.

"What frightens me is that you know the title. But we digress…no, I do not bloody care for the nit-picking little chit, alright?" Draco growled.

"No, it's not alright. If you don't care for her, then bloody leave her alone. The girl has enough problems as it is without you chasing after her for no other reason than your own sick amusement."

Somewhere deep inside, the comment stabbed at Draco, but he covered it with a well-practiced sneer that was absolutely inherent in all Malfoys or else they were cut out of their father's will and sent to live with Muggles…or so Lucius had told Draco when he was little and sneer-free.

"Please! What problems could perfect little Ginny Weasley, the Gryffindor Angel, possibly have? The girl's more of a golden child than bloody Potter!" he scoffed. Blaise's gaze turned up to the castle. "You have no idea what you're talking about." He said stonily, keeping his back turned. The castle grounds were dark, and had been for a while. That never bothered Blaise, though. He felt safe in the darkness. He supposed it had something to do with being a Slytherin. Shadows chased each other over the darkened snow as the trees bent submissively to the icy wind.

Blaise breathed in a lungful of piercing cold air.

"You remember our second year?" He asked, staring up at the sky and watching the stars shine in welcome, familiar patterns. Draco scoffed again. "How could I forget? Everyone thought Potter had finally cracked. It was great!" he snickered and it took all of Blaise's power not to put his fist in a good place…like Malfoy's left eye socket.

"You remember someone opened the Chamber of Secrets?"

Draco nodded. "Voldy, wasn't it?" Blaise sighed. "Not quite. Voldemort was behind it…but he had help." Draco sat up straighter. "Please tell me you're about to say that Potter helped the Dark Lord attack Muggleborns. Oh, please." He pleaded, looking as if Christmas was about to be announced every day.

Blaise scowled. "No. It was someone else. Someone who was given Voldemort's old diary. Someone who didn't know what they were doing. Someone who was scared and alone and dying right before our very eyes. Someone who got that diary from your fucking father. Someone you're bloody falling for, even if you won't say it."

Draco's mouth fell open and his breath flew up into the air as a surprised gasp flickered into the night sky.

"Ginny?" he coughed out, face pale. Blaise nodded. "She nearly died, Draco. And she thinks she's doing it again. What other answer is there? What if the rumours are true, Draco? What will you do then?"

Confronted with things he didn't want to face and questions he didn't want to answer, Draco did the most sensible thing for his current, over-agitated mind-frame whose stability was questionable and was anything but serene;

He ran.

Back to the castle, to whatever comfort and solace he could find far from the things he'd heard but never more than a thought away.

He wasn't the only one.

Shadows raced up the sloping snow-covered grounds as night gave way to mystery and deceit and fear and insecurity. Sleep was a fable that night and just as intangible as any muggle fairy tale with princes and sorceresses and knights and true love. The castle was under a spell, and no magic words could remove it. Tucked safely in its stone confines, several students lay awake that night, their thoughts revolving so succinctly and closely that they could have shared the same thought circle, going back and forth and back and forth.

……………………………………………………………………………………….(hey, you…git…go back and read the sentence before that last paragraph…it's important)

Ginny sighed, allowing herself to be engulfed in a big-brother kind of bear hug as Ron swept her off her feet and swung her around.

"Ron, you oaf, geroff! I can't bloody breathe!"

Hermione tapped Ron on the shoulder. "Ron…contrary to your beliefs, your sister is perfectly fine, but I don't think she will be if you keep squeezing her like that." Ron let go of Ginny's waist (which felt a few inches smaller) a bit sheepishly, but his face still had a stony, serious look to it.

"_Are_ you alright, Gin?" Ron asked. Ginny gave him an odd look. "I was until you went all boa-constrictor on me. Was ickle Ronnikins afraid for his baby sister?" she was trying to be teasing, but somehow it came out affectionate.

Ron went pink and crossed his arms rebelliously over his chest.

"No."

Ginny smirked. "Git. And why the bloody hell weren't you there when I woke up? The first bloody thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Snape and that nearly sent me back into unconsciousness. Lucky Pansy was there or I might have had a cardiac arrest." Ron looked puzzled, but Harry and Hermione were suppressing laughter.

He seemed to realize he'd been asked a question after a few moments. "Oh…well, I-"

Harry snorted as they began to walk down to the common room for the night. "He couldn't be there because Snape had him polishing trophies last night." He smirked as his red-haired best friend went red and glared at him. Ginny pulled her hair out of her face. "What did you do this time, Ronald?" she asked in a voice that sounded very much like Hermione.

Ron glared ahead in stony silence. Hermione sighed. "He was a terrific prat as usual. Got into a fight with some Hufflepuff twit who was talking…" she caught herself mid-sentence and looked to Ron as if asking for permission to continue. He shrugged. "She'll find out sooner or later."

Ginny arched an eyebrow. "Find out what?" Hermione sighed, obviously loathe to be the bringer of bad news. "People have been talking. You do know what happened the night you were…well, attacked, right?" Ginny almost shivered. "Yes."

"Well, people have been talking and they're saying…oh, they're saying you did it all." She closed her mouth and eyes and looked ready for some sort of explosion.

Ginny just sighed. "I had hoped this wouldn't happen. I suppose people know about first year, then?" she asked.

Ron perked a bit. "Not yet, they don't. The only people who know about that are you, me, Hermione, and Harry. Oh, and the family. And the staff. And of course Dumbledore. And Lockhart, but he's not really in any state to tell anyone." Hermione cut Ron off with a jab in the ribs. "Ron. Shut it."

Ron looked so Ron that it was hard to be angry at him. Hermione whispered something about not helping matters and Ginny held back a snicker.

As they stepped into the common room in good cheer, the noise that had filled the room left it as if someone had cast a giant silencing spell. Ginny glanced around, feeling as if every single pair of eyes were on her.

Actually, they were.

The four of them stopped, glancing around as a wall of Gryffindors rose up to meet them. Leading the pack was none other than Colin Creevey. Even as Hermione stepped forward with her take-charge self to start demanding answers to all her questions, Ginny knew it was pointless. There was a wild look in Colin's eyes and Ginny felt a tingling run up her arms and down her back. Something bad was going to happen.

"Oh, shove it Granger!" someone shouted from the back of the room, cutting into Hermione's small speech. Hermione went pink and backed into Ron for support. Ginny saw Hart in the crowd, glaring indecisively between Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

And somehow Ginny knew; she knew that Colin had discovered her secret. Though how he had found out was beyond her. Bu he did know, and he had told, by the looks of it, everyone he could get to listen. Suddenly Ginny was the enemy and they were out for revenge.

She knew there was no point in trying to reason with them.

"Weasley." Colin said, addressing her like he'd never addressed her before. There was malice and spite and anger in his voice and Ginny knew just then just exactly how big of a problem she had on her hands.

"Colin." She answered civilly. Colin sneered. "Don't you dare act like my friend. You're a traitor. To me and everyone else in this tower. We don't like what you did to me and Dean and the others. And we want you out." Several Gryffindors in the crowd cheered in assent. Ginny squared her shoulders. "What have you been telling them, Colin? What were you told? It must have been something awful for you to be this way. After all, we were friends, weren't we? I take it things have changed since then."

That seemed to infuriate Colin. "You're not even remotely sorry for what you did, are you?" Ginny's mask flickered. "I didn't mean to do what I did, Colin. I've spent years being sorry for what I did, if you'll just listen-"

"No!" he cut her off. "You had five years to get me to listen. So now I'm going to do things my way. I'm not living in a tower with a murderer; trash marked by the Dark Lord. Either you get the hell out of here, Weasley, or you start watching your back really carefully."

Ginny resisted the urge to scream in frustration. "I didn't want to hurt anyone, Colin."

"But you did!" someone yelled and there was shouts of agreement throughout the crowd. A spark of light shot out of someone's wand and it hit her dead-centre in the chest. She stumbled back a bit, her chest burning.

No one was there to catch her.

All in an instant, something broke in Ginny. Pressure mounting in her chest collapsed and stole her breath away. When it came back, she was on her feet, wand out, and ready for battle, a maniac gleam in her eyes.

Rather than confront her, the other students backed off, wary of her wand. Ginny took the opportunity to flee, a little afraid of the fire building up in her. She was stepping out the door when a spell hit her back and sent her tumbling out the portrait door and knocking her into the railing on the staircase.

She didn't stop. Pulling herself up, she searched frantically for her wand. Behind her there were angry shouts and exclamations as several students advanced after her, shouting in a frenzy of voices she couldn't distinguish. But she could hear the fear in them.

Ginny finally spotted her wand near the Fat Lady's frame and grabbed it. Colin was starting out the portrait hole, eyes blazing with something fierce and foreign. Without thinking Ginny shouted the first spell that came to mind.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

The spell hit Colin's chest and the boy went flying backward into his sea of followers. An enraged roar rose and the next thing she knew, Ginny was tumbling down the stairs, her wand disappearing over the railing.


	22. Oral Deflation

**Author's Note: **Yeah, no warnings anymore. This sucks. No more.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine if it belongs to J.K.Rowling.

* * *

**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Oral Deflation

* * *

**

Blaise sighed again.

Riley smacked him over the head with her Potions book. "Stop with the heaving sighs, you nitwit!" she screeched, sinking back into her chair. "If I'd known you'd start orally deflating, I'd never have let you go out there."

"If I'd known he'd go berserk and lock himself in his room, I'd never have gone out there," Blaise answered wearily. "He missed breakfast, lunch, supper…he's going to kill himself."

Mal glanced up from the fire, which she'd been turning to ice and back. "Remind me why this would be a bad thing?" she asked, losing her concentration as the fire exploded into shards of ice.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "He's the biggest git I know, but he's still my friend," he protested.

At that moment a tiny girl with coppery hair stumbled through the portrait hole. Blaise recognized her as a quiet little second year. Her face wasn't its usual mask of calm as her glance searched the room, a disturbance rippling underneath her skin.

"Merian," Blaise called, beckoning her to him. The girl knelt by his seat like some loyal subject. "There's a problem with the Gryffindors," she said hesitantly. "Who cares?" Mal called from her fire. "Ignore her. What kind of problem?" Blaise asked. Merian frowned. "I think they're chasing someone out," she said slowly. Blaise was intrigued. "Really? That hasn't happened in almost a hundred years. What happened?"

Merian looked uncertain. "I was sneaking back from the Library when I saw someone stumbling down the stairs. At first I thought she was just stupid, but then I saw her and she looked kind of hurt." Blaise nodded thoughtfully. "Was there anyone else?" he asked. "A boy. He was yelling at her and trying to hex her, telling her never to come back or tell anyone unless she wanted the whole school to know." Merian shrugged. "Guess he broke up with her," she said, in a voice that suggested she was convinced, though Blaise knew otherwise.

"Unless she wanted the whole school to know what, I wonder?" Blaise mused in a voice that suggested detachment. Merian knew otherwise.

Merian shrugged. "I don't know. They just left her. I don't know where she is now."

"Do you know who she is?"

Merian nodded, a peculiar expression of discomfort coming over her small face. "Ginny Weasley. She's…different…for a Gryffindor." She glanced down at a scar on her hand.

Blaise was already gone.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

When Ginny opened her eyes, it was because of a fierce pain running up her side.

Gasping, she shot straight up into a sitting position, which was a very bad idea. She collapsed back on the bed she was on immediately, writhing and trying not to scream. Cold sweat broke out on her chest and a dizzying wave of nausea shook her body.

She had no clue where she was. Forcing her eyes open, she saw blurred figures standing around her and one was very close to the part of her that hurt most. Another flash of pain and Pansy's face came into focus, concentrated as she worked on setting Ginny's cuts and bruises.

Two pairs of hands held her arms down and she felt two other sets at her ankles. Pansy was whispering soothing sounds that Ginny couldn't make out as she fought to keep the darkness at bay.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The room was dark. One of the dragon-scale clocks on a bedside read sometime after two. Snow was pounding unnaturally hard outside, seeping in through the stones, blocking up the images usually presented by the window-mirrors; the room was swept with cold.

Ginny's eyes had flickered open at some point. She recalled the pain and the fight to stay awake and she knew where she was somehow, yet she couldn't remember falling asleep. Or waking up. Her body seemed to be practically humming as she lay, and she knew once the spells wore off, she'd be in a lot of pain. She closed her eyes again and images flashed under her eyelids. Colin's anger swept over her again and the pain of everything that had happened pooled and collected in her chest.

But she couldn't cry. Tears swam in her eyes, but they wouldn't leave. Something was different, though she couldn't name it.

A sharp intake of breath blew her eyes open. Her eyes blurred by tears and unaccustomed to the dark, Ginny brought her knees up to her chest and blinked into the night surrounding her. There was someone else in the room. Ginny could make out the shape of someone in a chair at the foot of the bed she was in.

Leaning forward, she crawled to the end of the bed, the room coming into vision as she did. She nearly jumped back as Draco shifted in the chair in his sleep. His hair was a mess, as though he hadn't slept in ages. He was stirring about restlessly under the blanket throw over him.

Ginny leaned in closer as his lips moved. His eyebrows furrowed into a deep 'V' as he mumbled in his sleep. "…sorry, so…didn't mean…wanted…tell you…sorry…just…feel…sorry…so sorry…so…" And without thinking, Ginny reached out and soothed his forehead with her hand. His skin seemed to jump at her touch, but as she brushed his cheek, he calmed and stopped moving. A tenderness crept over Ginny, watching him sleep, that she passed off as maternal instinct, but she knew that feeling well enough to know that this was something different. But she knew what it wasn't. It wasn't what he felt…or even what her mum and dad felt towards each other.

Her only qualm as she lay awake, pretending to sleep as he woke and moved about silently that morning, was that she wished it was.

………………………………………………………………………………

"He's back."

Blaise glanced up as Mal swept into the Slytherin common room. "Draco? Well, why doesn't he come in?" Riley followed on Mal's heels. "Not Malfoy; Potter. He's pacing around out there demanding to talk to you. You'd better get out there before Mal blows her top and sends him to eastern Mongolia or something." She sauntered off, leaving Blaise to scamper to the door.

Harry was standing just in the shadows. The moment Blaise stepped out, Harry rushed over to him. "Is Ginny in there with you?" he asked frantically. Blaise frowned at the concern for a moment, but decided it was logical. Blaise took Harry by the arm and lead him into a shadowy corner.

"Before you ask again, your friend's little sister is fine," he said as Harry opened his mouth again. Harry breathed out a sigh of relief that Blaise thought a little more anxious than that of a friend. "Where is she?" he asked, glancing around as if Ginny was waiting in the shadows to pop out and do a jig for him.

Blaise frowned softly. "She's safe," he said evasively. Harry shot him a suspicious glance. "What is that supposed to mean? Ron's my best friend and we're worried about her. Hermione is too."

"Maybe you should have looked after her better," Blaise shot back. "It was only by luck that we found her." Harry leaned in closer. "What do you mean, 'found her?'" he asked. Blaise sighed, leaning back against a column. "What do you know about what happened last night? Because all I know is that Ginny was chased out of Gryffindor house, and I found her unconscious near the library. Draco and I brought her back to his room and Pansy fixed her up. Ginny kept mumbling in her sleep not to tell. We weren't sure what she meant, but we decided not to take her to the teachers until she woke up. Last I knew Draco and Pansy were watching over her and she was still asleep."

Harry didn't answer, because the second he heard Malfoy's name, he went rigid, and as soon as he heard where Ginny was, he was gone, and Blaise was staring after him with an expression on his face that said he was denying everything he'd seen and heard.

……………………………………………………………………………………….

Hermione sighed. "Ron, she's not here. Check the map again."

Ron glanced behind one more bookshelf in the library before sighing and coming around to face Hermione. "Hermione, she's not on the map. I don't know why, and neither does Harry."

"Well where could she be, Ron? Unless the map is wrong, and Harry says it never is, then she's not on the school grounds. So where else could she be? There's something the map's not telling us, I just know it. Just look on the map again."

Ron sighed, pulling the Marauder's Map out of his robes. "Remind me again why we're not going to Dumbledore with this?" he asked. Hermione sighed, slumping down into a chair. "Because of what Colin said. Besides, if anything bad had happened, Dumbledore would know."

"That's flimsy, Hermione, and you know it," Ron replied. Hermione nodded. "I know. But Zabini is in the Slytherin dorm and Parkinson is on the Quidditch pitch. If something had happened to Ginny, they'd be the first to know after Dumbledore and neither one of them is running about like we are."

Ron sighed, then blinked, leaning in closer to the map. Hermione peered over his shoulder. "Is it Ginny?" she asked. Ron shook his head. "No, it's Harry. He's moving fast away from the Slytherin dorms, and-" his finger traced something "-he's coming this way."

Hermione glanced at him and then at the doors. "Let's go see what's going on."

Outside the library doors, Ron had to shout to catch Harry, who was blazing past the library like a manticore was on his heels.

"Harry, what?" he asked as his friend jogged back to him. Harry was breathing hard. "I found Ginny. She's with Parkinson and Malfoy. I was coming to get the map to find them."

Ron studied the map. "No…it's odd…I don't see Malfoy on here either. But Parkinson's still out on the Quidditch pitch." Harry nodded. "Great. Let's go find her." He started to move when Ron called him back. "Harry, Dumbledore's just around the corner."

As soon as he spoke, Hermione grabbed the map and quickly stuffed it in her robes as Dumbledore rounded the corner. "Ah, Miss Granger. Just the witch I was looking for. And Harry, I need to speak with you two; will you join me in my office?"

Hermione and Harry turned around and faced Ron. "Er, Ron?" Harry asked, eyes flitting to Dumbledore. "Will you go to the Quidditch pitch and take care of that thing we were going to do?" Hermione rolled her eyes at how contrived and obvious Harry's words were. Dumbledore merely grinned guilelessly at them. Ron glanced in between them and nodded slowly. "Sure."

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Draco woke up with a content feeling settled into his bones. He glanced at the clock on his bedside and was startled to see how long he had slept. It had been years since he had slept so many straight hours. He touched a hand to his cheek and glanced at his bed.

A possessive pang of pleasure overcame him as he watched the small red-head sleep under the covers he slept with every night. The ridiculous notion that he wasn't going to let the house-elves clean his sheets after this came over him and he shook his head at himself, standing, as silently as possible. Glancing around, he realized that Pansy and Blaise were gone. A thrill passed down his spine as he realized he was alone in his room with Ginny in his bed.

He made it as far as the bathroom door before he had to turn around. His feet pulled him over to his bedside. Before he could think, or even stop himself, he reached out a hand and caressed her head. Her hair was tangled and messy, but the sheer contact knocked him for six.

Some ludicrous voice popped into his head, which he assumed was his previously-silent conscience, and started nagging at him for taking advantage of the situation. The voice reminded him of Ginny and he pulled his hand away, something akin to guilt slapping his face.

"Why'd you stop?"

Draco's chest constricted and he took a step back. Underneath the mane of red hair, a pair of brown eyes were gazing at him steadily. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. The eyes closed and to his amazement, she rolled over and proceeded to go back to sleep as if nothing had happened.

Draco returned to the bathroom door, shaking his head and going inside to take a cold shower.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Pansy sighed as she bounced Eve on her knee. A cold wind was blowing around them, but she'd cast a warming spell, so it wasn't the temperature that was making her shiver. Once she'd been assured Ginny was not going to die again and that her injuries weren't that bad, she'd started thinking; a dangerous thing to do.

She tried to feel sorrow over Pomfrey's death, but all she could think about was how lucky she was. If the rumours were true and it was Voldemort, then Ginny had been spared somehow. And so had Eve; Pansy's maternal intuition came through for her, and she tried not to think about what might have happened if she'd allowed Pomfrey to take Eve back with her to the hospital wing.

Shivering again, she hugged the baby to her chest. Evangel was getting big now, though not fat, as Blaise had suggested. Pansy was thrilled to see the baby was growing more and more like her father every day. Olive skin was getting darker and her hair was curling into black locks to match her jet black eyes. Even her nose wasn't so pug-like anymore.

The days were few that Pansy dwelled on Erom, but she vowed she would never forget him. The pain was fading and sometimes she wondered if it weren't for Evangel. There were perks to motherhood for all the stretch marks and lost sleep and gained weight. Evangel loved Pansy unconditionally, and there was something about getting her child to smile that Pansy was fast becoming addicted to.

Pansy cooed, trying to get Evangel to gurgle. She loved that sound more than almost any other. Suddenly Evangel perked up, showing off chubby cheeks and a near-toothless grin, and clapping her podgy hands together in glee.

Pansy felt the hairs on the back of her neck prick up before she heard his voice behind her.

"Parkinson, I need to talk to you, so don't run off."

………………………………………………………………………………………..

It had taken Velixandre a full ten minutes to persuade Minerva to retrieve Colin from the Gryffindor dormitories. She had heard from Dumbledore that something had happened the night before concerning the Gryffindors and Ginny Weasley and when Colin's name had popped up in the conversation, Velixandre had to find out why.

McGonagall returned five minutes later with Colin in tow, and left him to Velixandre to handle. The moment Colin refused to meet her gaze, she knew her fears were confirmed.

"Colin, what have you done?" she asked, standing and making her way over to him. He backed away from her, and she could feel the bridge between them stretching as he moved back.

"You don't understand. _I _didn't do anything. It was her. But no one would believe me. They won't get her out of the school. So I got her out of the tower. She'll try to attack us, and I'm not going to make it easy for her. I'm going to protect myself and everyone else in Gryffindor tower. Potter would do it, but he's infatuated with the girl. She has him under some sort of spell. So it's up to me."

There was a fanaticism in his speech that shot up a warning flag for Velixandre. "Up to you to do what, Colin?" she asked, and it surprised her to find that she was talking down to him; not as her lover but as a student or a child. He must have felt it as well because he stiffened and had the nerve to glare at her. But she pressed on. "Up to you to play hero? I know you must feel you're doing the right thing, Colin, but did you ever stop to wonder? Maybe, just maybe, Ginny Weasley is as much a victim as anyone else?"

This was the worst thing she could have said. Colin's fist came back a fraction of an inch, and even though she knew he wouldn't hurt her, she cast the Leaden Curse on him. His body seized up and she could see the surprise and panic set in before he had time to block it with hatred.

She stared at him for a moment, pity in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Colin. But I don't think we can do this anymore. I think it best we go back to being teacher and pupil-" she had almost finished speaking when Colin's body gave a shudder and he slumped to the floor.

He'd thrown the curse off.

He was crumpled in a pile on the floor, breathing heavily and sweating. But when Velixandre leaned down to help him up, he jerked away from her. "Don't bother. You're my teacher now. You don't have to worry about me." He stood on his own and headed to the door, stopping and turning back to her at the frame.

"You know what I thought of? To shake the curse?" Velixandre shook her head 'no' even though she knew what was coming and couldn't brace herself for it.

"You," he spat, and slammed the door behind him.

……………………………………………………………………………………….

By the time Draco had returned from the shower, shivering, Ginny was up and dressed and sitting cross-legged on his bed. There was something in her carriage and posture that suggested something was different. There was also the fact that she hadn't tried to flee once she'd realized where she was and that she'd let him touch her without trying to murder him.

She followed him with her gaze as he crossed the room in a towel and rummaged around for clothes. "Nice place," she commented dryly, glancing around "pays to be Head Boy, eh?" Draco was still trying to process her relaxed mood as he pulled his robes from a drawer.

"Er, do you mind?" he asked, gesturing to her and the clothes he was preparing to change into. Ginny shrugged, still watching him. "No." Draco felt his face tighten as he marched into the bathroom to change.

He came back out and strode over to the side of the bed. Ginny flopped over onto her stomach and stared him squarely in the eyes. Something was missing from her, and though the challenge in her eyes was daunting, it was also alluring.

Draco touched his cheek and look at her. "It was you," he said absently, unsure if he was making sense or even speaking a known language. Ginny nodded, getting to her knees and swiping a hand gently across his forehead. "You needed a mother," she said simply, and Draco was unsure if she was alluding to the previous night and her tender attentions or to his life in general.

"I had a mother. She didn't do me much good," he retorted, unsure why he was behaving so hostile when she was right where he wanted her. Ginny shook her head. "Not a good one. If your mother had raised you properly, you never would have treated me the way you did."

It was then Draco realized the transitional change he had made. Between all the beatings the girl had taken, he had come to think of her in a different light, and the number of new sensations and emotions she had exposed him to were dizzying. It wasn't about winning her anymore, though she plagued his dreams no less than before. Now it was something else. It was about proving something to her. Though Draco still wasn't sure what it was.

Ginny swung her legs over the side of the bed and stepped past him. "When you're ready, I'll be waiting," she said, and was gone, a hint of regret in her voice. But why? Was it him? Draco discovered he was too tired to think about it.

…………………………………………………………………………………

Ron wasn't best pleased. His nose was at least two sizes larger from the feel of it, all because he'd been so bent on storming impressively up to Parkinson and glaring at her fiercely that whilst practicing on the way there, he missed seeing a rather large and obtrusive tree in the middle of the grounds.

His nose didn't miss it.

Which was why it took him a good minute or so to see over his swollen nose at what Parkinson was holding in her lap. It was not, as he had first assumed, an overly large potato. In fact it was very much not a vegetable.

It was a baby.

Pansy whirled around at the sound of his voice, and brought Evangel into plain view, who was gurgling and cooing happily at him. Pansy was up in an instant, one hand wrapped around Ron's throat and the other holding Eve on her hip. She hauled Ron up against the Quidditch stands railing and glared at him with just the look that had given Ron his unwanted facial realignment.

"Listen here, Weasley. If you so much as think of telling anyone of what you've seen, I promise you, I'll obliterate your brain out of your thick skull and you won't ever say another word, understand?"

She let up on her grip the tiniest fraction, evidently waiting for a response. Ron blinked a bit dimwittedly. "Er…what have I seen, exactly?" he asked thickly. Pansy dropped her hand, blinking at him. "You have no idea, do you?" she asked incredulously. Ron gave the baby a wary glance. "That…" he stuttered suddenly, fixating on the infant "…that's not…not yours, is it?" he gaped like a floundering fish.

Pansy sighed. "If I'd just shut my fat trap, you'd have blundered on without the slightest clue," she mused to herself, shaking her head and stroking Eve's absent-mindedly. Sighing, she flipped her hand dismissively at Ron. "Go on, run along now. But mind what I said before. I meant it."

Ron was about to do just that when he remembered the purpose of his trip out to the pitch. "Wait…I was supposed…we're looking for Ginny." His fear rushed back, but he worked to keep it under the surface. He didn't like the fact of a Slytherin seeing his fear, even if she was a friend of his sister.

Pansy saw it nonetheless. She was a Slytherin after all. And something in her softened. It was the same kind of fear that made her capable of lifting a bloke like Ron off his feet with one hand if she thought any harm could come to her baby.

She found herself sympathizing. "She's fine. Last I saw, she was sleeping like a-" she glanced down at Eve, who had one toe stuck resolutely in her mouth as she concentrated on figuring out how they were connected "-well, you get the idea. She's fine. I imagine she's romping around the castle right now looking for someone to bugger. Be a good brother and go let her bother you," she commanded.

"But where is she?" Ron asked, undeterred. Pansy frowned. "Well, I left her in the Head Boy's room. I imagine she's either gone off somewhere else far from the Gryffindors, or she's tied up in Draco's quarters right now and he's having his wicked ways with her."

Ron was running by 'wicked ways' and didn't hear Pansy calling after him that he was a stupid git that couldn't tell a joke from a naked dancing harem monkey.

Pansy turned to Evangel, who glanced up over her foot, most of which she'd decided would stay in her mouth. Pansy shook her head and rubbed her nose against her child's. "Sometimes I really wish your daddy was still alive. Not all men are that stupid, you know."

Evangel gurgled knowingly and went back to drooling on her feet.

…………………………………………………………………………..

Harry and Hermione refrained from talking as they trailed behind Dumbledore on the way to his office. It must have been important for Dumbledore to track them down and retrieve them himself, and they kept shooting each other glances.

They passed Blaise in the hallways, and Harry noticed the curiosity in the Slytherin's averted gaze. Dumbledore must have seen him too, for her stopped for a moment and grinned mundanely at Blaise.

"Good morning Mr.Zabini. You look dreadfully exhausted. Whenever I can't sleep, I find it best to get up and jaunt around the castle for a bit." His eyes twinkled knowingly. "But then you find the most unusual things. It's almost just as hard to get back to sleep."

He strode off, twirling the end of his long beard, Harry suspected, to keep from stepping on it. They reached the familiar gargoyle and Harry and Hermione stood waiting expectantly for Dumbledore to give the password.

"Let's see, now what was it…oh yes, 'Manticore Mallows'" he said and the gargoyle leapt aside whilst Hermione made a face indicating she felt sick and would probably be investigating to ascertain whether or not they used real manticore in their candies.

Inside Dumbledore's quarters, Harry and Hermione made themselves comfortable and helped themselves to lemon drops as Dumbledore took his seat. Fawkes the phoenix swooped down to the arm on Harry's chair and rubbed his beak against his hand.

Harry smiled. "'lo Fawkes."

Hermione cleared her throat and Dumbledore grinned beatifically at her. "Yes, I suppose you're both wondering why you're here. But you probably already know. The school has been attacked and Voldemort's name has come into the situation." He sighed and once again appeared older.

"Mr. Potter; five years ago you killed a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. Are you certain it was dead?" he asked. Harry looked astonished. "Well sir, I mean…I stabbed it. It died. I'm almost sure it died." He faltered, glancing at Hermione for support.

"It's true, professor. Basilisks do heal relatively quickly, but they're not invincible. If Harry stabbed it where he said he did, then it is dead." She sounded very sure of herself and Harry blew out a breath in relief.

Dumbledore nodded, leaning back in his seat. "Yes, I thought so. I had to be certain. A basilisk is attacking the students again, and they're not the most common beasts. Do either of you have any ideas on the issue?" he asked them, his eyes never leaving Hermione, who began to shift nervously, glancing over at Harry as covertly as possible.

Harry shook his head and Dumbledore sighed. "Ah well, then, thank you anyway Harry. You may go now. I need to speak with Miss Granger alone now."

Harry stood slowly and left the room, watching Hermione until the door closed between them, a curiosity burning in him. But the overwhelming need to find Ron and Ginny overtook him and he turned down the corridor.

………………………………………………………………………………….

Ginny turned around yet another corner. She was amazed at her own actions and the very idea of what she was planning, but what else was she to do? Her entire world had been shaken for the last time. There was no piecing things together this time. She was starting from scratch.

She had just descended the steps leading down to the dungeons when an arm shot around her waist and hauled her back into a solid body. The first thought that crossed her mind was that this was not Draco and his antics. The second was that she wasn't afraid.

Without a word or a gasp or any indication that she wasn't still just trundling along, she slid her foot behind the leg of her attacker, and deftly replaced his ribs with her elbow. The force alone sent him flying, and her foot tripped him up enough for a near-backflip that set him down on his back in a tangle of limbs. Ginny would have found it frightfully amusing if it weren't for the look on Blaise's face as he glared up at her between his knees, his face an interesting mauve color.

"Don't look at me like that," she warned, helping him up and setting all his appendages back in their proper places. "What sort of poncy git goes and pulls a stunt like that after what's happened the past few weeks?"

Blaise sulked for a good ten seconds before his interest piqued enough to cover the wound to his pride. "Where've you been? It seems like the whole bloody school's looking for you and no one knows where you are but we seedy Slytherins. I talked to Pansy a few minutes ago and she said something about accidentally telling your brother something about you and Malfoy and an orgy…I'm not quite sure how it came up in conversation, but rest assured Draco's genitals are now an endangered species." He grinned cheekily at her and it was all she could do not to laugh outright.

She snickered at the thought of Ron and Draco having it out, but sobered as she noticed the serious underlying vibe in Blaise's otherwise 'fuck-all' manner. "What's happened, Blaise?" she asked.

Blaise sighed. "You have a knack for getting yourself into trouble, don't you? First with this new wave of attacks and now getting kicked out of Gryffindor. What are you going to do, Ginny? Don't you think Dumbledore's going to have to do something once he finds out your own classmates have shunned you? What's the old bat going to do, let you live the rest of your life as a Slytherin hermit?" he scoffed.

Ginny perked her ears and stopped walking. "You know, Blaise…you say the most profound things when you're being a total git." Blaise backed up until he was facing her. "I don't think I like that look. Ginny," he said in a warning voice "you are not going to live the rest of your life as a Slytherin hermit."

Ginny grinned madly. "Well, maybe not my whole life…"

Blaise felt his eye twitching. "What are you going to do, just waltz into the Slytherin common rooms and demand they give you a place to stay among them?"

Ginny's face was thoughtful.

"You are not going to just waltz into the Slytherin common rooms and demand they give you a place to stay among them," Blaise warned. "Do you think the Slytherin tower is any place for the Gryffindor princess?"

Ginny frowned. "Gryffindor princess? Come now, don't tell me people actually call me that." She pulled a face. "Actually it was the Golden Angel of Gryffindor, but it took too long to say," Blaise mused.

Ginny snorted. "Anyway, you remember Pansy asking Dumbledore if she could move into Slytherin again? Well, what if I were to go with her? That way I could help take care of Evangel and I'd have a place to stay. Not to mention everyone thinks I'm attacking muggle-borns and half-bloods. The Slytherins must love me," she added wryly.

Blaise sent her a questioning glance. "What happened to you?" he asked suddenly. Ginny frowned. "What hasn't happened to me, Blaise? Harry went all mushy on me, I have a blonde Slytherin stalker who's so pathetic I can't hate him, I still have nightmares about Tom Riddle, who, no offence, looks a little bit like you, I've been cast out of my own bloody house, my brother's ashamed of me even if he hasn't said it, my friend Hart's gone psycho over Hermione and won't speak to me, and to top it off, I think I might be attacking people again. Really, Blaise, what else can happen to me?" she ended out of breath and flushed in the face. Because in truth, she had been waiting to let that all out. It felt good.

Blaise was still staring at her. "But you're different. Something's changed," he said, sounding almost regretful. Ginny sighed. "Would it be melodramatic to say that you can only take so much before you call it quits?" Blaise shook his head. "If it were anyone else, yes, but considering what you've gone through…"

Ginny waved her hand. "I don't need to hear it. I don't want pity, I just want everything to go away so I can live my life in peace. I want to finish this year and next up and get on with my life."

Blaise sighed as she sped up, making it hard for him to keep up with her. She was waxing and waning like the moon; he wondered how long it would be before the old Ginny was gone and replaced by something new and hardened. Something like him or Pansy or Draco.


	23. Basilisks, Secrets, and Confessions

**Author's Note: ** I know, I know…bloody kill it already! If it weren't for the fact that it's bloody three-hundred pages long and STILL not finished means I have put too much work into this thing. I have to see it to the end. Ghah.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine if it belongs to J.K.Rowling

* * *

**The Hogwarts Renaissance**

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Baslisks, Secrets, and Confessions

* * *

**

Hermione waited for a moment, making sure the door was closed and Harry was really gone. Then she turned back to Dumbledore. "Sir, I was wondering…you knew that I had an idea about these attacks, didn't you?"

Dumbledore grinned a little sadly. "My dear Miss Granger, if I remember correctly, very difficult for an old codger like myself, but if I can recall…I do believe it was largely thanks to your research five years ago that Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley were able to solve the puzzle about the basilisk and find Miss Weasley. I dare say if anyone had any ideas about it this time, it would be you. Not to mention you looked very anxious when I asked."

Hermione blushed, looking down sheepishly. "I did have an idea, professor. But I didn't want to say anything in front of Harry just yet. If he knew, he'd blame himself."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. Hermione let out a breath and began. "Well, sir, when I first heard the rumours about the attacks, I immediately went to the library and looked up everything I could about basilisks. As you know, it was a miracle Harry wasn't killed in his second year, as unprepared and ignorant, though through no fault of his own, as he was. When I was researching, I found out a few pieces of information." She began to dictate as she would read from a book. "First, basilisks are not a common breed of creature, owing to the complexity of their hatching and the rarity of their procreation. Second, it is true that they have a natural endurance and rapid recovery from wounds, but once a fatal blow is struck, there is little its body can do. However, one of the most uncommon things about the basilisks, besides its deadly sight, is its ability to heal after and just prior to death. However, and this is most important, once dead, the basilisk's powers only pertain to the wizard who commanded it last. This was immensely useful in the middle ages when witches and wizards would obtain fresh basilisk ingredients from their dead corpses, often killing their loyal creatures themselves. It was much less dangerous, you see. But, thirdly, and most importantly," here she paused to add importance to what she was to say "as if it were still alive, the eyes of the basilisk were still fatal to look at, even after death. Eventually the Ministry put a ban on basilisk body parts, as many of the eyes were being used for sinister purposes by their previous owners."

Dumbledore smiled, as if he were rewarding her points for a conclusion he had known from the beginning. "Very good, Miss Granger. Top marks. I dare say, you are one of the brightest witches to enter this school, though I'm sure you must tire of hearing it."

Hermione flushed, pleased. "That's not all, sir. If you think of these facts, the situation would indicate that whoever is attacking students this time is using the eyes from the basilisk Harry killed to do it. Harry said Fawkes ruined the basilisk's eyes, but we'd forgotten the natural healing powers of the creature. And yet, even if this were the case, it would mean that it was Voldemort" she flinched a little as she pushed the name from between her teeth "attacking again. How? It then occurred to me that in giving Mr. Malfoy back the diary, Harry made a very, very bad mistake." She stared gravely at Dumbledore, whose unsurprised face made it understood that this was the conclusion he too had come to. "You know, better than I, the way dark magic lingers. I have a feeling that part of Riddle was still left in the diary, and I have the even worse feeling, that he took a bit of Ginny with him. Just that part of her, a wisp, would be enough to sustain the faintest trace of him in the diary long enough for someone to find it and rejuvenate him. In other words," she sighed heavily "I believe one of the students in the castle is playing host to a sixteen-year-old Lord Voldemort. And I'm sorry to say," she paused and swallowed hard, closing her eyes "that at this point, the most obvious person is Ginny."

"I was afraid of as much."

……………………………………………………………………………

He'd had it.

Draco slammed his feet down on the ground, tossing his Potions book on the floor. He had been trying to work for who knew how long, but he couldn't get his mind off her. It was really starting to get on his nerves.

Standing, he made his way to the door of his Head Boy room, grabbing his robes as he went. Sliding from behind the door, he pulled his robes on just as the sound of thudding footsteps approached the corner nearest him.

Pulling from the shadows, Draco sneered. "Well, well. Potter. What are you doing here?"

Harry glanced at Draco from behind his glasses with a glare that should have melted them. "Where is she, Malfoy?" Draco smirked. "Who? Not your pretty little Gryffindor girlfriend?" Harry bristled and his fists clenched at his sides. "She's not my girlfriend, Malfoy, but I want to know where she is."

Draco tutted, strolling past him as if he weren't there at all. "Honestly, Potter, if you care so much about the girl, you should take better care of her. No leave her for nasty little boys to find and take to their rooms." He smiled evilly, the pleasure that came from poking at Potter washing over him.

Harry glared. "Don't you dare even think about touching her, Malfoy. She's a million times better than you and she's mine," he growled fiercely. Draco frowned. "I wouldn't let her hear you say that, Potter. She's not a piece of meat you can own; trust me, I should know."

Harry clenched his fists again. "What would you know about her, Malfoy? What have you been doing to her?" Draco chuckled snidely. "What we do has nothing to do with you, Potter. In fact, as far as I know, _she_ has nothing to do with you, Potter." He flashed him a sneer. "Clever girl."

Harry lunged just as Ginny turned the corner with Blaise.

"Harry!" Ginny cried, shocked and stunned, as Harry lowered his fist, inches from Draco's face. The smarmy git was still smirking. "He was saying things about you, Ginny," Harry protested. Ginny frowned, looking at both of them with disappointment written all over her face. "I heard what he said, Harry. And as wrong as he was, he did have a point; you don't own me."

Blaise was watching silently as Harry floundered for words. "He said he'd done things with you." He said weakly. Ginny shot a glance at Draco. "He _implied_ he'd done things with me. Which was very wrong of him to do." Her eyes had locked with Draco's now.

Harry saw them staring and his face darkened. "You haven't done things with him, have you?" he sounded disgusted. Ginny turned a dark glare at him. "If I have, it's no one's business but mine and his. Certainly not yours."

"But, Ginny, I thought we-"

"You thought what, Harry? What exactly did you think? You asked me out, I told you no. Why can't you understand that?"

Harry gestured to Draco. "What about him? Has he asked you out? You didn't accept him, did you? I mean, I'm ten times better than that sorry little Death-Eater bastard ferret will ever be."

Draco's body tensed to make a move, but Ginny, surprisingly, got there first. Even Blaise winced as the loud crack of her hand on his cheek echoed through the hallway. She stood, breathing hard, as if on fire, staring at him for a long time. "Who the hell do you think you are?" she finally asked, her voice deadly quiet. Harry's face was red, but he met her gaze. "I'm the guy who loves you," he said. "And why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't you love me? Why would you even look at him?"

Ginny stared him down, but he refused to avoid her gaze. Finally she sighed. "No, Harry. You're just too late. And you're scared that Draco might get something you don't have. But I don't feel that way about you. I love you like a brother, but if you can't see that, I'm sorry. It hurts me to have to do this to you."

Harry's face was pale now. "Draco?" he scoffed. "Draco?" What has he done to deserve familiarity with you? You're so much better than him, Ginny. Please, just come back to Gryffindor tower. I'll set Colin straight."

"No."

A deadly chill seeped from her voice. Harry stared at her. "Fine. Stay with your little slimy buddies." He was speaking from hurt now, and Ginny braced herself. "Stay with your little slag of a girlfriend, your smarmy lover, and your stupid fairy friend. Ignore us. That's just fine." He turned his back to her for a moment before whirling around. "You know what? I think Colin's right about you. You're not the same girl. Maybe you do belong here. The Dark Lord's mark is all over you."

As he strode off, Ginny stepped back, feeling like he'd hit her. Blaise was staring stonily at the floor, his face flaming with humility and pain. Draco reached out to Ginny, feeling something, but she pulled away before he could figure out it was compassion. "Not now, Malfoy. I can't deal with you too. What did you say to him? Why did you have to mess with my life again?"

She left the hall, her final words ringing in Draco's ears.

"_Why did you have to goad him?"_

Draco knew the answer. It was because no matter how he felt toward her, he always had that burning hatred towards Potter. That would always come first. And Draco understood. This time, he wouldn't get the girl. He wasn't ready for her.

He really didn't deserve her.

…………………………………………………………………………………..

"Ginny, did your brother ever catch up to you?"

Pansy found Ginny, much, much later, collapsed in her room, toying with one of Evangel's stuffed animals mindlessly. Setting the sleeping child in her cradle, she made her way over to the red-head.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, noting the flushed look to the girl's face. Ginny sighed. "I'm not feeling anymore, Pansy. I'm just floating through the days waiting for…I don't even know what. Something. Something to happen. Something to make me free from this-this" she pawed at her chest, as if clawing away at invisible bonds would loose whatever pain she was feeling.

Pansy sighed. "I take it your brother did catch up with you?"

Ginny frowned. "Eventually. Once I told him I wasn't having an affair with Draco or any other Slytherin, he went back to his usual colour. He's still miffed, but he can't hate you or Blaise because you saved me."

Pansy stared at her. "You worried me so much last night. When Blaise said how he'd found you, the first thing I could think of was finding someone to watch Eve while I went and hexed the whole bloody Gryffindor house. I know you couldn't tell anyone that they'd thrown you out or what they'd done to you. I know you want to stay at Hogwarts. But I need to know…do you think you're causing these attacks?"

Ginny smiled a sad smile. "I don't know. It scares me. I can feel something…" she placed a hand over her heart "…in here. But I don't know. What scares me is that I might." She turned her face up to Pansy. "I need to ask you a favour…"

…………………………………………..…………………………..

And so it was done, with little ceremony.

Pansy went to Dumbledore with her proposition and he accepted. It was ingenious, really. Dumbledore of course knew about what had happened to Ginny, and though he didn't agree with her silence on the matter, he understood that she'd made up her mind. It also allowed him to put Ginny in a place where, if she was attacking people, she'd have a harder time of it. Not only were Slytherins all pure-blooded, and thus in no danger, but they were more observant and would be suspicious of her.

So, Pansy took up her place in the seventh year Slytherin girls' dormitory, and Ginny went with her. Even with the new additions, the room was far from crowded. The Slytherin dorms were slightly larger, and more elegant than the Gryffindor ones, and a good deal colder. Pansy, Ginny, and Evangel shared the dorm with Millicent, Riley, Delia and Mal.

Pansy was quite pleased with how well Ginny integrated. The red-haired girl had hardened with the last beating she'd taken and she fit in well with the others. The only tension was from Mal and Delia, but that was normal for them, and Delia respected Ginny for catching Draco's attentions.

The fist night they stayed there, Pansy had been nervous about revealing Evangel to the girls. With Ginny's help, she managed to spill her story. The girls were ecstatic. All but Millicent, who stared warily at the baby when it was placed in her arms. Surprisingly, Mal took a liking to Evangel and wouldn't let anyone hold it while Ginny, in turn, told her story, with help from Pansy who jumped in at odd moment and embellished.

Though cautious of the Gryffindor amongst them, it was obvious they would eventually accept her, for what she had done for Pansy, Blaise, and just for who she was in general.

The problem came, the next day, from the boys.

……………………………………………………………….

"A Gryffindor?"

"A Weasley?"

Pansy sighed as expletives were shouted across the Slytherin common room. Ginny was standing behind her, leaning against the fireplace, with her chin up and her eyes lowered. The rest of Slytherin wasn't taking to Ginny as well as the older girl had. Many of the boys threw threats at her and declared her unfit to walk the same ground.

Ginny held her place and stood unwavering, waiting for the final verdict.

"Go on, Pans, what's with this? Is this a joke? What's with you and the Gryffindor princess?"

Pansy turned to Ginny, who nodded slowly. Turning back to the Slytherins, Pansy waved her hand for silence. "Many of you know the predicament I found myself in last year. And if you didn't, you do now. I was pregnant," she said, her voice crisp, clipped, and no-nonsense. She went straight to the point. "You may have heard some things I did and none of you have seen any children. But I had my baby. And this girl, even if she is a Weasley, has been here for me and my child. She could look beyond who I was; why can't you do the same? If you don't, she's better than you, no matter what kind of blood she has or what kind of people she cares for, or what the state of her clothes are."

In the end, it was a close count. But Ginny had won the majority of Slytherin's approval.

She could stay.

………………………………………………………………………..

Monday morning Ginny made her way apprehensively to Charms class. Evangel was now officially property of Slytherin. Where Pansy and Pomfrey and Ginny had struggled, it was easy to find someone to care for the baby when it was being looked after by the entire Slytherin house.

At the moment, one of Pansy's distant cousins in sixth year was watching Evangel while Ginny was in Charms and Pansy in Transfiguration. So it wasn't the infant Ginny was worried about.

She had Charms with the Gryffindor sixth years. With Colin. She sighed before she entered. She was solid. She was stone. There was nothing they could do to her. She set her shoulders and strode into the room.

……………………………..…………………………………

Blaise stalked through his classes like a gorilla on steroids. Even Draco was wary of him; he didn't know exactly what was wrong, but he knew it was something vital. Because Blaise was usually a happy-go-fucky kind of guy. And this was deranged fury that would make Oldie Voldie poo his pantaloons.

The one time Draco tried to ask 'what was wrong', his answer was a firm, resilient 'go fuck yourself' and a blow to the stomach. All from a 'free-the-pixies', non-violent bloke type. Something was very, very wrong in the Zabiniverse.

And Draco was too caught up in his own misery to bother with it.

…………………………………………………………………

"Hey, Riles, what's this?"

Blaise rounded the corner with one thought on his mind; to get to a secluded spot to think. However, as he made his way towards the library, he encountered a slight problem.

Adrenna Riley was known for her sharp wit and her greatest secret; a big heart. But the most common knowledge was that she always had a scarf tied around her neck. It wasn't a mystery; it was just there.

Except when Blaise walked around the corner and into the light from the torches in the hallway, it wasn't there anymore. Riley was on her knees, both hands wrapped around her neck while three boys tossed her scarf back and forth, taunting and jabbing at her.

"What's that on your neck, Riles?"

Blaise recognized the taller one; his brother had dated Riley. He showed no sympathy as he waved the scarf in front of Riley's nose, just close enough to grab. But she wouldn't. She couldn't. She wouldn't take her hands from around her neck. A crowd seemed to be gathering, watching.

And Blaise watched. As if he was reading a book that he had no affect on. He watched the boys and Riley and felt sympathy for her, but he didn't do anything. The taller boy reached down suddenly and grabbed Riley's hands. They pulled away raggedly, her fingers reaching.

Blaise heard a soft gasp behind him, but he couldn't turn. He couldn't take his eyes from Riley's neck. It was covered in a gnarled, angry red layer of skin that travelled up in an almost unnoticeable string behind her left ear and down to her right shoulder.

Blaise felt someone shoulder past him and watched as the taller boy's feet lifted off the ground and he slammed into the wall behind him. A girl rushed by in a flash of red hair, her robes falling off one shoulder to reveal pale skin and something else. Ginny didn't even bother with the other boys, they were already down the hallway by the time she knelt by Riley. But she did turn and stare at Blaise, her mouth open slightly, in a grimace or gaping disbelief, Blaise couldn't really tell, but in that moment, his anger melted and guilt washed over him.

But by the time he could work his mouth open, Ginny was helping a teary Riley back to the Slytherin dungeons, past a Slytherin boy in the crowd who was staring after the girls stonily, and Blaise was left by himself in the hallway with Riley's scarf.

Alone.

…………………………………………………………………..

Pansy sighed. "What happened to this school? When did it stop being terrorized exclusively by Slytherins, eh? Look at this…Slytherins being attacked in the hallways by goody-goody Gryffs and the reportedly-wise Ravenclaws. What is the world coming to?"

Ginny kept quiet, her face pale, and the hand that was stroking Riley's hair as she slept off the effects of a dreamless sleep was limp. Delia was tossing a Snitch back and forth between her hands, giving the fire a dark look. Mal had thrown several fits before Daren had calmed her down. Even Millicent was worn out from scaring off Slytherins from their corner of the common room.

Ginny looked around her, saw the general discontent, and glanced down at Riley. The tendril of burn scar that crept behind her ear stood out now that Ginny knew it was there. She sighed and stood slowly and carefully, letting Riley slip comfortably into her chair.

"I'm leaving," she said, her voice heavy with finality. Pansy glanced up, Mal glared, and the other two said nothing. "Why?" Pansy asked. Ginny shrugged her shoulders, stepping in front of the fire for a moment. "Those were Gryffindor boys. You know why they did what they did. That's not fair for you. Any of you. When she wakes up, tell Riley I'm sorry for what happened. Tell her I'm really sorry."

"You sit your silly little tarty arse down, shut up and listen."

Ginny turned, her eyes widening as she did. Millicent was striking a fierce pose with her hands on her hips. One glare and Ginny sunk down to the first chair her bum could find. Millicent nodded. "Good. Now, I don't know if it's just that Gryffindor streak of guilt or responsibility, but here things are different. In Slytherin, once you're in, you're in. We take care of our own unless they turn on us first. We watch out for ourselves, but we're damn loyal too. As far as I can see, you've done nothing against us. You helped Pansy, and you're alright in my book. What happened to Riley won't go unpunished; that's not the Slytherin way either. But we're not going to punish you. So stop playing martyr and go upstairs and get some sleep. You look like shite."

Ginny didn't quite know what to do. So she did the only thing she could with the tall, burly girl hanging over her menacingly. She went upstairs to get some sleep.

………………………………………..……………………………………

Draco frowned. It was morning. The clock on the wall reading two minutes past twelve said so. He had been in bed for two hours and he hadn't closed his eyes for all that time. He was thinking. Hard. Prioritizing. Setting himself straight.

Because if he couldn't get through the night without thinking about her, there was more to this than just wanting what Potter didn't have. This was something much more if he worried about her being safe all night. And this was going to be something really colossal if he didn't sooner or later give up the sheets she'd slept in to the house-elves.

……………………………..…………………………………….

Ginny stirred. Blinking in the darkness, she reached for her wand. _"Lumos,"_ she whispered, voice still gravely from sleep. It was past one in the morning. Trying to figure what had woken her up, Ginny rolled over.

Her head gave out a stab of pain, searing in to the backs of her eyes. Groaning softly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and slipped her feet into her slippers before trundling off to the bathroom to get something for her head.

Twelve minutes later, she was grumbling to herself as she descended the stairs, empty-handed. She would just have to sneak into the hospital wing and get something. Her head was pounding now, a dull sound that sounded like the washing of waves over sand and stone. It was making her dizzy and not a little nauseous.

Outside the Slytherin dungeons, she relit her wand and made her way cautiously. She wouldn't be surprised by anyone she didn't want to meet, and if any authoritative figures should wander by (she hesitated to call Filch an authoritative figure) she had Dumbledore's year-long pardon for hallway-exploration, late-night or otherwise.

She was jubilant when she made it to the hospital wing without encountering anyone other than a wobbly cat the size of a small whale. Slipping in the doors, a chill ran down her back. It was the first time she'd entered since that night. She'd been so bent on safely getting here that she'd forgotten where 'here' was. And what had happened here.

Shivering, but not cold, Ginny made her way to the back of the room where potions and medicine was stored. Rummaging through the shelves, she plucked a green bottle out and swallowed a mouthful. It was dull, disgusting stuff that tasted of faintly rotted asparagus, but it did the trick. Her head felt soft, like it was made of a fluffy cloud. Her eyelids drooped and a loopy smile formed on her face.

She floated forward a few steps before her eyes flew open, focusing on the figure she'd half-seen standing in front of her.

………………………………………………………..………………………………………

Blaise had the feeling that he wasn't the only one awake. The night was still, and yet he sensed a restlessness that wouldn't allow for sleep. He finally kicked off his covers and got out of bed. He'd never get any sleep that way.

He wandered down to the common room. Riley was still asleep in the seat where Ginny had left her in peace. He sat down warily next to the chair and watched her. He wondered about the burns on her neck, and wondered if anyone else thought they looked like the marks of two hands in burn scars. Perhaps it was just his overactive imagination. Or perhaps not. She was the daughter of a Death Eater, after all.

Blaise glanced down at the scar on the inside of his arm, a small 'X' burned deep into his flesh. He was the son of a Death Eater as well. It was a habit Dark wizards had. They loved to brand what was theirs. There was hardly a single Slytherin student who wasn't branded in some hideously, physically torturous way. What bothered him was how Ginny was just like a Slytherin in this way as well.

He'd seen her shoulder when she knocked by him to get to Riles.

And he'd seen that mark before.

………………………………….…………………………………..

Hermione blinked in the darkness. She hadn't even realized she was awake. She usually slept soundly; she had to get enough sleep for the day and work ahead. The moon was high above her bed, peeking out at the top of the window. She stared up at it for a while and noticed that she never looked outside anymore.

She didn't feel like it.

……………………………………..…………………………..

Ron was sitting up in his bed, glaring at his feet, sticking out oddly from his too-short pyjama bottoms. In the bed next to him, Harry was talking in his sleep again. Ron normally tuned it out, just like Harry tuned it out when Ron started on about spiders in his sleep.

But when Ron heard Ginny's name, sounding not at all as it should between friends who were like brother and sister, he couldn't just tune it out. Nor could he tune out the way Pansy's name popped up. Nor could he imagine why it bothered him so much.

Pansy had a baby. She wasn't a monster anymore. Now she was so much more. She was a mother. Ron could deal with that. Hell, he could learn to like that. She was Ginny's friend. Sooner or later, he'd have to learn to deal with her or like her.

He was beginning to understand that.

…………………………………………………..……………………………….

Ginny breathed steadily out of her nose, holding her wand up defensively. "Who are you?" she asked quietly, but firmly. As the light from her wand cast a glare over the figure, it held up its hands in defence from the bright beam.

Ginny relaxed. It was just a boy. A Slytherin. She'd seen him when Pansy had made her introduction. He had been one of the few cheering her on. And he'd been there with the fiasco with Riley and the three little shits with her scarf. This boy peered out of lively green eyes. "Sorry if I scared you. I'm Nathanial Rothzenhart. You can call me Roth." He stuck out his hand in a convivial, straightforward manner and Ginny couldn't help but reach out and shake it. He had a pleasant smile about his face and suddenly Ginny was glad she'd had a headache. There was something in that smile that called to her. He was a fellow person, not just another Slytherin out for his own needs. A calling went straight to her heart, promising her that this boy would give her the strength and stability she needed right now.

She shook her head a little. "I'm Ginny Weasley," she said, grinning faintly at him, unsure. He grinned right back and it made her really smile. "I know who you are. I've seen you in Slytherin house. I was one of the ones who wanted you to stay," his grin was almost sheepish and Ginny fell back on the relief of not having to deal with another egotistical maniac. Why was she thinking in terms of Draco? Because she never thought she'd be rid of him. But her shadow was fading with the rising sun…Roth, maybe? Who knew?

"Listen, tomorrow night's the Halloween feast. Do you want to go out for a stroll or something?" he asked suddenly, glancing down at his feet, as if words of suggestion were written there. Ginny grinned. "I hate all the noise and chatter on big nights; I'd love to get out of there."

Roth beamed at her. "Great. I'll see you around six or so?"

Ginny grinned again; it seemed to be contagious. "It's a date."

……………………….……………………………………………….

Blaise awoke with a start. There was a creeping, shuffling noise echoing around the common room. Peering over the back of his chair, he saw a small figure slip from the shadows and begin to ascend the stairs.

"Ginny!" he hissed softly. The figure jumped a little and pressed a hand to its chest, but went back down the stairs and approached the chair Blaise had fallen asleep in. He had to tear his eyes away from her bare shoulder, cold suddenly seeping into him.

"Blaise." It was almost a statement. An 'oh, you're still capable or civilized conversation' statement. Blaise glanced down at the flickering shadows at his feet. "What happened…the other day, with Potter, I just…" he trailed off as Ginny put up her hand. In the dim light from the fire he saw the traces of a smile lift the corners of her mouth. "I know, Blaise. I'm sorry he said what he said about you when he was only trying to hurt me." She sighed, staring off into the fire. "I seem to be doing that a lot lately. Getting other people hurt."

Blaise gave her a questioning look. "Riley. You. Me. And if it's me attacking people again, then-" Blaise put his hand over her mouth. "Don't. Ginny, I know it's not you. I know you're stronger than that." His words annoyed Ginny for a moment, though she didn't know why.

"I thinking I'm going to be seeing someone," she blurted, having no idea why she did. Blaise frowned gently. "Seeing someone? Are we talking a head-doctoring someone or a male relationship partner someone?" Ginny grinned weakly. "I don't know. He's in Slytherin. Seventh year. He seems really nice. For a Slytherin. He's going to take me out for a walk tomorrow." Her tone of voice made it sound quite romantic and for a moment Blaise felt disappointed with her. But he cast those thoughts aside. "Good for you," he said, noting how weak it was.

If Ginny noticed anything, she kept quiet. "Yeah," she agreed half-heartedly.

………………………………………..…………………………………………

Draco didn't move. He didn't breathe. For a moment Blaise thought he had turned to stone. Then his nostrils flared and his shoulders sagged. "Did she say who?" he asked, his voice lilting a bit towards hope. Blaise shook his head. "No, and if you killed whoever it was, I don't think she'd be very happy about it." Blaise felt he should say something more; maybe mention the mark he'd seen twice now, darker the second time. Draco's face stopped him.

Draco glanced down at the floor. Something felt wrong. His throat was clenching and his stomach reeling. His vision was swimming and his chest felt like the life was being squeezed out of him. Blaise watched him for a moment, a speculative look on his face. "So it's true," he murmured wistfully. "You really fell for her."

Draco glanced up, his hand clutching, unknown to him, at his stomach. He felt a pull in his gut that he didn't like at all. "What are you on about?" he snapped, astounded at the force of the words coming out of his mouth. His hands were shaking with the urgent need to do something.

Blaise shook his head. "You idiot," he berated, smacking Draco upside the head. "What was that for?" the blonde replied angrily, touching his skull. Blaise shook his head. "This isn't like you, Draco. I think you fell for her."

Draco felt his chest. "Is this…this…here…" he clutched at his chest crudely "…what you feel?" he asked. "Barely," Blaise said, staring in shock as Draco's whole body seemed to shake. "What do I do?" he asked, holding his stomach. "It…hurts…I guess…there's this…thing…pushing…here…" he pointed over his heart. "What do I do?" he repeated, his voice wavering and unsure. He was lost.

He was in love.

Blaise simply stared. He had no idea what to tell Draco. "You need to tell her," he said finally, wiping his amazement from his face. "How?" Draco asked, sitting heavily on his bed. Blaise shook his head helplessly. "Before she gets too far with this new bloke."

Draco nodded. "What do I say?" he asked after a moment. Blaise shrugged. "Tell her what you feel," he said simply. Draco held his chest for a moment longer, brow furrowed in concentration. "Blaise?" he asked, glancing up, "what exactly is _this_?" He asked, pointing to the left side of his chest.

Blaise glanced at his friend with all the pity he had. "I think that's love, Draco."

"Oh, come off it. You've got to be shitting me," he protested. Blaise shook his head. "You've got to do something, mate. You've got to tell her. She'll listen."

"I don't know that she will."

"I think you're scared she won't."

"I am not."

"You are. You're scared you're going to lose her."

"I think I've already have."


End file.
